tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10457581752081417392024-03-04T20:08:27.713-08:00An Exercise in Spinning YarnStories and gripings about exercise, dieting, life, and what it's been like learning to leave the love handles behind.~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.comBlogger322125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-60827978157709705762016-02-10T14:27:00.000-08:002016-02-10T14:27:07.412-08:00The one where life is different than you think it's going to be.So. Monday, I would've said I was coming off a really rough, say, 4 or 5 days. I would have mentioned some 2 day long tantrums, a series of sleepless nights by children which mean a series of sleepless nights for their parents, a headache that's been hanging on for days, and right, that surprise trip to the ER on Saturday. I would've said, sure, the last few days have been really tough, but we're past it, moving forward, going great.<br />
<br />
Apparently, that would've been overly optimistic.<br />
<br />
Sleeplessness has persisted, my headache has persisted, and last night, Thing 1 woke up screaming about a sore throat and an earache. Long night summed up, she didn't fall asleep, didn't REALLY fall asleep until after 6am. We watched a lot of Batman: The Animated Series, and I played the crap out of some Spider Solitaire. I mean, I didn't win once, (I blame the zombie-state of my middle-of-the-night brain), but I played the <i>crap</i> out of it.<br />
<br />
So on to this morning. The oldest child has less of an earache, but is bona fide Super Sick. And probably even more miserable because of our No Sleep Till Brooklyn episode from last night.<br />
<br />
And this, the exhaustion and the things, is a big part of the reason why I've been subsiding exclusively on coffee and candy so far today. Not doing good things for me, I'm sure. And to make matters worse, when the kids found some of my candy wrappers, I lied and said that their father snuck the candy, and they believed me because they are dumb. They'll get over that soon enough, I'm sure.<br />
<br />
This week just didn't get easier. Stuff like that just happens some times. I've come to believe that there is no situation these days wherein our family will be completely healthy. There is no situation where Shane and I will be well rested. There is no situation where it is quiet and relaxed here. Our house has 241 square feet per inhabitant (Harper takes up most of them though), and that's including the laundry room and the closets, which we need to use sometimes, because privacy only lives in closets these days. And that is okay. Because that is family and it is insane, and that is okay. That is okay. That is okay.<br />
<br />
Kaden had some nice perspective to offer this morning. I was trying to take care of Madelyn who was crying about her head hurting, and I suddenly need to clean up mister Harper "Oops, I crapped my pants" Miller, and the 2 middle children were begging for attention, asking for help with snacks and a tv show. I had to ask them to sit, to wait patiently.<br />
<br />
"You know," Kaden offered, "Some families only have <i>one</i> kid..."<br />
<br />
Don't I know it, my friend. Don't I freakin know it.~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-37998344289254933392016-02-08T21:49:00.000-08:002016-02-08T21:53:31.138-08:00I'm dead. I’m dead. I’m dying, I’m dead.<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjV2LntgTFR9MWIpx1Knm4EXlewTe1rD1304_uWujQsN5jjA7sshZu8ie_rCaROQAA7-pMv8qYxkvNqnsuChTMk4RW4Fl4RQ3sOn5843OJ2LZqvWiEvtBhPFGc9tqMffTigLZg5WgK5qM/s1600/IMG_3940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjV2LntgTFR9MWIpx1Knm4EXlewTe1rD1304_uWujQsN5jjA7sshZu8ie_rCaROQAA7-pMv8qYxkvNqnsuChTMk4RW4Fl4RQ3sOn5843OJ2LZqvWiEvtBhPFGc9tqMffTigLZg5WgK5qM/s320/IMG_3940.jpg" width="276" /></a>This weekend was, well, different from expected. We got a
surprise date night on Friday which was wonderful, then took a surprise trip to
the emergency room on Saturday morning when the 2 year old took a dive from his
car seat into the Target parking lot. This was not wonderful. He’s fine. Despite the horrible sound it
made, my child’s skull did not split exactly in half like I’d imagined. Despite
the fact that he looks pretty much exactly like you’d expect for a kid who went
six rounds with a Target parking lot, 90 minutes after it happened, he was back
to his old self, jumping and laughing and screaming and trying to find something
else to crack his skull open on.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not sure if my youngest child will survive his adolescence.
I’m even less certain that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> will
survive his adolescence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emotional distress (ie: the constant state of motherhood),
plus general exhaustion,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>plus junk food
in the house for the Super Bowl, turned into a cheat weekend instead of a cheat
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As of today, my brain is a buzzy
fuzzy exhausted mess, and as of this morning, I'd gained 5 pounds since Friday. Which puts my NET
2016 weight loss at less than 4 total pounds. So that’s sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But today is Monday, and not only am I back
on track, but I left my salad with chicken and an orange on the side lunch at
home today. Apparently Starvation Monday is my penance for Bad Behavior Sunday.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyhoozit, today, not only am I super fatso, but I also find myself
staring down the barrel of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a (probably)
7 million dollar emergency room visit, and realizing it’s not just my diet I
need to get in line. It’s also my budget. Now I feel like I'm the one who smashed my face into the pavement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dude, being a grown up is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">soooooooo haaaaaaaaaaard. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My honest self says that, since the addition of our new
addition, I’ve been overly indulgent with our monthly income. Which is my way
of saying, I spend money on things we don’t really need to make them or we or
me feel better, and "adjust" to this new change. New clothes and toys and junk food help with that, doncha know. Also, I’m far too tired to
budget like a grown up. Because ugh, come on, it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">soooooooo haaaaaaard.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But just like with my waist line, it’s time to come out of
our life-change fog, and stop with the extras, stop with the junk spending, and
start being my own grown up task master. NO you will not eat junk food! NO you
will not spend money on things you don’t absolutely need! YES you will live on
a tight budget that allows you to save up money and meet the goals you need to
as a family! Goals like paying off debt, saving up for a little trip for our 10<sup>th</sup>
anniversary this spring, and putting money away for kids college and our own
retirement <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will not</i> loom like
unachievable future dreams, but will instead be actual parts of our
month-to-month plans! Because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THAT IS
WHAT BEING AN ADULT LOOKS LIKE, STUPID.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
UGH. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fine</i>, Grown
Up Ashley. Geez, you’re such a pain in the posterior sometimes. All I wanted was a freaking
cookie and a nap.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
JUST THE SAME, I would like it to be known to... I don't know, you, probably, that I didn't go home after work and eat a cookie and take a nap. NOPE. I ran 7.08 freakin miles, thank you very much. I am sore. But it was beautiful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2wpCdbEzRA7XfTbbToFthffsA6AFldGVOvxFbg8HpWSP0I5tczbxcZDXGQnwb5iRxl9JH-NfjNES8-S59-pwxbVSrKNNY-AAQEKiUqpmRFkFOIOpzqe-W9BbnKACQtHBt_MKRNUuwas/s1600/IMG_3947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2wpCdbEzRA7XfTbbToFthffsA6AFldGVOvxFbg8HpWSP0I5tczbxcZDXGQnwb5iRxl9JH-NfjNES8-S59-pwxbVSrKNNY-AAQEKiUqpmRFkFOIOpzqe-W9BbnKACQtHBt_MKRNUuwas/s640/IMG_3947.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before picture. Hence the sweat-free smiling face.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Also? It is <i>beautiful</i> out. I normally get grumpy when I can already wear a tank top in February (the summer here is oppressive, the winter basically nonexistent) but it was amazing today. Beautiful. Incredible. You can't be grumpy on a day like today.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX-VddlJmnvHxtiwA7vqlRK2Dn0EGqzS4s_AXqmJfiZ2spuRR1kl49_AUVlT3KCa9XlU14OWFKyAnIrK7ydr4uMHEXqqpDAfNsWwUQwPU5hiuG7L0F6-gVOeJkQU64ixm9kEErleZ-VDQ/s640/blogger-image--213469121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX-VddlJmnvHxtiwA7vqlRK2Dn0EGqzS4s_AXqmJfiZ2spuRR1kl49_AUVlT3KCa9XlU14OWFKyAnIrK7ydr4uMHEXqqpDAfNsWwUQwPU5hiuG7L0F6-gVOeJkQU64ixm9kEErleZ-VDQ/s640/blogger-image--213469121.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? No grumpies here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-72524508346916254312016-02-04T22:27:00.002-08:002016-02-04T22:27:25.432-08:00Quit Faced.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAY8oJ0TlE067IpVX7uhyOT9fHGc-WrY3Qnu9MjRCdjpdMvqL8umFhcI4yYKjFH1_QFmPjj07C298m1ixQY84m6wP3mrg1JZasuUGz_T5SP-Y6HBfRK1DLemT17rIm0wKZbuk2tNFya5M/s640/blogger-image--1770227136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAY8oJ0TlE067IpVX7uhyOT9fHGc-WrY3Qnu9MjRCdjpdMvqL8umFhcI4yYKjFH1_QFmPjj07C298m1ixQY84m6wP3mrg1JZasuUGz_T5SP-Y6HBfRK1DLemT17rIm0wKZbuk2tNFya5M/s400/blogger-image--1770227136.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
A while ago I was watching one of those weight loss shows. Don't judge me. I find them inspirational, and I need what I can get. A woman who'd undergone gastric bypass and lost a couple hundred pounds felt suddenly discouraged when she realized she was still too heavy to do an activity she'd been planning with her husband.<br />
<br />
"I was so embarrassed. I was so discouraged," She said. "I just wanted to quit."<br />
<br />
Now I have BEEN THERE. Okay, no, I haven't had bypass surgery and I haven't had the success of losing hundreds of pounds, but man, yes, I have certainly found myself, a third of the way, half of the way, something-th of the way to my goal, and just ready to give up. So I'm not judging this lady in her point of distress. But it did leave me wondering... what, exactly, was she planning on quitting?<br />
<br />
She was discouraged because, despite all her success, she was feeling the ramifications of the weight she still had to lose. Working your butt off and finding that, your butt is not in fact <i>off</i>, is super, freaking discouraging. And that can so very make you want to quit. But I looked at her and thought, "you're discouraged because you're still heavy. Quitting your hard work will only make you heavier. So what, really, can you quit?"<br />
<br />
For some reason, this week has been hard on me. I can't pin down the reason exactly, there haven't been more stressors than normal, I even hit a new low weight on Tuesday (153.0) so you'd think that would be really encouraging. But truth be told, I feel fatigued. I want snacks. I just <i>really</i> want to quit.<br />
<br />
But like my television friend, I'm on my way, but I still have a long way to go. Yesterday, today, I want to quit so hard, right into a bag of potato chips. OR even better, into one of the bags of chocolate chips left in the cupboard from the holidays. I want to eat. I don't want to exercise. I want to eat junk food and read novels and stop trying, whilst still being heavier than I'd like.<br />
<br />
Now if I make that choice, the quit-faced choice, I don't get to stay here. I had to work to get to 153. If I eat and sit and make those other choices, I will weigh far, far, far more.<br />
<br />
So quitting on the diet isn't an option. Quitting on the diet means getting heavier. Getting lazier. It means going back to when I got winded playing with my kids, or felt uncomfortable sleeping, bending, sitting, pretty much everything-ing. Quitting on a diet means quitting on my life. And despite having a rough week, I'm not exactly ready to do that quite yet.<br />
<br />
Life gets really, amazingly difficult sometimes. Today, for example, is really <i>amazingly</i> difficult. Top ten list level stuff. I can't tell you why because of... reasons, but trust me, UUUUGGGGGHHHH. But you don't get to quit because it's hard. You don't get to quit your job, you don't get to quit on your home, your family, your friends, or your kids (unless you want a one way trip to the federal pen). This is all part of being a grown-ed up. So it's big girl panties time, my friends. Hike 'em up, and move it on, because quitting is simply not a choice.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSkpZVGBdDPNrr-b0u2IIFrzcMpvETcFXjqbRUvvrwJFb9J4Sbiw9yq3GL4oqdb5R2x5WcqPanVi_Yjipc1yAHrMn_j8sLZKJUe-9mgZv7F3bPDtjhnhIfWpejXJbiQMZ65-4qw0GPRk/s1600/big-girl-panties-big-girl-panties-demotivational-posters-1329656173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSkpZVGBdDPNrr-b0u2IIFrzcMpvETcFXjqbRUvvrwJFb9J4Sbiw9yq3GL4oqdb5R2x5WcqPanVi_Yjipc1yAHrMn_j8sLZKJUe-9mgZv7F3bPDtjhnhIfWpejXJbiQMZ65-4qw0GPRk/s400/big-girl-panties-big-girl-panties-demotivational-posters-1329656173.jpg" width="375" /></a></div>
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<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-80029760002369924202016-02-01T14:32:00.002-08:002016-02-01T14:32:32.570-08:00Month 1 results are in! Aaaaaaand you might want to avert your gaze!Well there it is. 31 days down, and a new month (a longer than normal month, by the way. HAPPY LEAP YEAR! Who knew?! Not me. I didn't know. I didn't know until just a couple hours ago. Happy leap year.)<br />
<br />
At the moment, I'm exercised, sticking to the diet, and about half way through my work day. It's another Marathon Monday, <i>but</i>, instead of my normal back to back race to the finish, I had an hour, right in the middle of the day with no clients to visit, and no places to be. So I decided to chill at Starbucks. I should probably be getting some of my paperwork done, but, as it turns out, I'm not. Instead I'm here, with y'all, and I've got a coffee. (Black, Splenda, Cinnamon. No midday milkshake here. I'm super good at Diet.)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig7WajgBpQ3RdWlyMQohRd7-oKDMdOWxPi9E43PTYD_UG5BtpzT_Fpv1jGU7MaX6rFH0lQI7kjEOF93222an7Ux2TwrNF1bfY-_8SUmtx4D9od0KMmehlpi79X30pZ7B7dTynu6yHvkGw/s1600/Photo+on+2-1-16+at+2.05+PM+%25232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig7WajgBpQ3RdWlyMQohRd7-oKDMdOWxPi9E43PTYD_UG5BtpzT_Fpv1jGU7MaX6rFH0lQI7kjEOF93222an7Ux2TwrNF1bfY-_8SUmtx4D9od0KMmehlpi79X30pZ7B7dTynu6yHvkGw/s640/Photo+on+2-1-16+at+2.05+PM+%25232.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is so that next year, when I'm in the middle of a busy work tornado, I can look back and be jealous of myself today, with my hour to kill and cup of coffee.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
See how I'm like, just chugging coffee and staring at my computer? THAT'S how you selfie in public <i>without</i> looking like a self-obsessed weirdo. It's subtle. Like, totes chill. Like, I'm probably reading the news, guys, keeping up on the Iowa caucuses and... political whatnot. It's mature. Not something teenagers would do, I assure you.<br />
<br />
OKAY. So it's a month in (you probably knew that, what with your modern day easy access to a calendar and all), and today's official weigh in was 154.2. A touch higher than Friday's 153.8, but in general, on my way down. 7.8 pounds down, in fact. I did pics and measurements today. I'll post them here, but in case anyone is curious, I'm also posting them under <a href="http://anexerciseinspinningyarn.blogspot.com/p/the-months.html" target="_blank">"The Months"</a> with my every month weigh ins. I feel like that's the best way to chronicle this. Anyhoozit, now, for your viewing pleasure, or.... well no, the opposite of that, but here just the same, is <i>me</i>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDL-YNp0wzcOkh-Kn0ZJwyaYxdvwgliuf_ecq8kyvuZpleJOGwUvFgmLDzqjewDIL9Vd4Zu1C-ipkVbeclGl8M7EFq-DVLzKebCZPOpIwfiqFzA1VAEK1Sq8_7OOZWQrB47ElBAy33DLc/s1600/IMG_3237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDL-YNp0wzcOkh-Kn0ZJwyaYxdvwgliuf_ecq8kyvuZpleJOGwUvFgmLDzqjewDIL9Vd4Zu1C-ipkVbeclGl8M7EFq-DVLzKebCZPOpIwfiqFzA1VAEK1Sq8_7OOZWQrB47ElBAy33DLc/s400/IMG_3237.jpg" width="253" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyvkDpxLcY3CQ2444Vu7FcZAO0j5Y_U-4_sp4ePgug3vKCZRLV3P95jrQm4SZZW2kDSuU6c_HBAoK9SEx8P0yIMpml8PLK9xh4_4AySB_-wz03R4OdKXvS7lC5co5Maq4CbrDJdkEgSc/s1600/IMG_3244+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyvkDpxLcY3CQ2444Vu7FcZAO0j5Y_U-4_sp4ePgug3vKCZRLV3P95jrQm4SZZW2kDSuU6c_HBAoK9SEx8P0yIMpml8PLK9xh4_4AySB_-wz03R4OdKXvS7lC5co5Maq4CbrDJdkEgSc/s400/IMG_3244+%25281%2529.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7g-rSoiWQAOLv6j14anOiyDYNlB2YOMqI9ISAgmC_qNQqZkL28p4Pop5twwROdkYSOnXPL2UyJaRxeQriiD1NwgCWiZCzs_06919sSucrmdhhlVRzukf-Z0Rou_qes-TeqnH6Ly3p_rQ/s1600/IMG_3233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7g-rSoiWQAOLv6j14anOiyDYNlB2YOMqI9ISAgmC_qNQqZkL28p4Pop5twwROdkYSOnXPL2UyJaRxeQriiD1NwgCWiZCzs_06919sSucrmdhhlVRzukf-Z0Rou_qes-TeqnH6Ly3p_rQ/s400/IMG_3233.jpg" width="247" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbG2JccOmkAO0wpcPI21v_rOj8wN9lpMq_xWR8Faoaqo36s0UYeDIPTEXEaSypuy-CWtiIWJoI8U816tv1ye4dKQ-AzsJ2hgjhH2Kma4vt5FBtkEnJL3TXQCmig4I4w9xzVx-Ys5TTiE/s1600/IMG_3245+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbG2JccOmkAO0wpcPI21v_rOj8wN9lpMq_xWR8Faoaqo36s0UYeDIPTEXEaSypuy-CWtiIWJoI8U816tv1ye4dKQ-AzsJ2hgjhH2Kma4vt5FBtkEnJL3TXQCmig4I4w9xzVx-Ys5TTiE/s400/IMG_3245+%25281%2529.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3CWyFwB66fJV3TiF3pxyPvnSV30r2U3rPtXszGjRAsov3dyckmf2QKZwQ4ODbuKlhnatkj1ygvbW_h68NQJgfDfQu7P4Fv4zPukT4q2YigXQbAhekvaAqRTovBcrOFzHpgEqpGKL6y4/s1600/IMG_3232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3CWyFwB66fJV3TiF3pxyPvnSV30r2U3rPtXszGjRAsov3dyckmf2QKZwQ4ODbuKlhnatkj1ygvbW_h68NQJgfDfQu7P4Fv4zPukT4q2YigXQbAhekvaAqRTovBcrOFzHpgEqpGKL6y4/s400/IMG_3232.jpg" width="238" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSH63j4EHnuorLKdJxd_AjgwgCzemf1JRp8yaC66nptd9Sv7_rOONVoLy2wstBbs9JpCv8bM4-k-KfhattjtIxg80vvafLuLVVN9JHneTTuiiGmtk5WnWdND4uaCSrQXk_fHSPgBeV8w/s1600/IMG_3241+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSH63j4EHnuorLKdJxd_AjgwgCzemf1JRp8yaC66nptd9Sv7_rOONVoLy2wstBbs9JpCv8bM4-k-KfhattjtIxg80vvafLuLVVN9JHneTTuiiGmtk5WnWdND4uaCSrQXk_fHSPgBeV8w/s400/IMG_3241+%25281%2529.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>
<br />
Can you tell? I'm not sure if you can tell. It wasn't as much of a difference as I would've liked, I'll be honest. But then, I've still got 18.4 pounds to lose, so I guess, give it time. Honestly, I mostly just got terrified by how much older I look in the pictures from today. I'm hoping that's because it was at 6am, and I'd crawled out of bed 3 minutes earlier. I mean, I really have to hope I'm not aging 10 years for every 8 pounds of weight loss. Because that is not fair. That is really, really, ridiculously not fair.<br />
<br />
Can I tell you? I'm not sure if you noticed this earlier, but I'm excited that this month has a bonus day. I'm REALLY excited that this month has a bonus day. I've been fretting about February, that I won't have enough time in this tiny month to lose the 8-9 pounds I really need to lose. But now, come on! BONUS DAY! February is going to be <i>amazeballs</i> with that extra day. I can feel it already.<br />
<br />
Happy Monday, folks! Onward and upward!<br />
<br />
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<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-17032773646812459072016-01-31T12:01:00.000-08:002016-01-31T12:01:10.731-08:00Happy New Month's Eve!Today is the finalest day of the firstest month of 2016. I began this year at a startling 162.0 pounds. Yesterday, best weigh-in of the year, was 153.8. Today was worse. But I did nothing to deserve that, besides being awesome with my diet and doing a double shift of exercise, so whatever. The scale can bite me.<br />
<br />
Today's truth? Feeling a little fat. I've been working hard to ignore the fact that I'm still 9-10 pounds heavier than...ALERT: <i>Pausing a moment for Awesome</i>.<br />
<br />
My kids and I seem to have all gotten a cold, so we're home, ditching church, and instead watching The Avengers for the second time this weekend. They like the Hulk. They think it's cool that Thor and Loki are brothers. They think Black Widow is awesome. They wish there was more fighting and less talking. But more importantly, I just had this conversation with New Addition:<br />
<br />
NA: "Mommy, what's that guy's name?"<br />
Me: "That's Hawkeye."<br />
NA: "Oh, okay."<br />
Madelyn: "Wait, who is that?"<br />
NA: "His name is Hot Guy."<br />
Me: "....Yeah, that works too."<br />
Because, it seems, you're never too young to pick your favorite spandexed stud muffin.<br />
<br />
<i>Now we will return to our regularly scheduled gripe session.</i> So right. I'm trying to ignore the fact that I'm still like 9-10 pounds heavier than I was at the end of August. Back when even my tight pants didn't leave me fretting about my inevitable muffin top. Back when my tight pants were, in fact, just called "my pants".<br />
<br />
I remember why I gained the weight. Not like weight gain was the actual goal or anything, but I remember that I was emotionally overextended and exhausted and stressed out and overwhelmed and exhausted and exhausted, and I remember that I <i>chose</i> to set aside my diet and exercise regimen for a time, while I adjusted to new life. None of this was an accident. I made a choice, for good or for ill, and now I'm living in that consequence.<br />
<br />
As of yesterday, I'd lost 8.2 pounds for the month. I don't really care who you are, 8.2 pounds in a month is great. That's solid, I-can-feel-this-in-my-skinny-jeans level change. And though I hate the fact that I'm still over 150 (and probably will be for at least another couple of weeks), I'm better than I was. Yes, over the fall, I made a choice. That choice gained me 18 pounds. But January first, I made another choice. If I hadn't made <i>that</i> choice, I'd almost certainly still be over 160, and may have even gained another 3-5 pounds this month. Instead of weighing 165, I weigh under 155. Instead of feeling like a chunky failure, I feel like a slightly-less-chunky person on the road to success. I've lost 31% of the weight I set out to lose for this year. I am 31% finished with losing a marathon. Which is great. Still not "there", But, you know, closer. Closer. Ever closer.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the kids declare it's Spiderman time. Apparently, we're very over DC these days. Marvel or die, friends. Marvel or die.<br />
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-70235524690253163422016-01-25T22:15:00.001-08:002016-01-25T22:15:32.549-08:00The Case of the Mondays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBc4Lrg-1Mk8bJYxq_rWcoI41ZG27tn_mqQAdmXSQtWoQw0ptOFF9RebznF0mKGfdht-VH8C8JZlLlbPwgmZg9YKbahVaSKGR3ZnU6jnfMirC8NpFAdp1iD8jdaJn9bKGngH0jFGqogg/s1600/Case-of-the-mondays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBc4Lrg-1Mk8bJYxq_rWcoI41ZG27tn_mqQAdmXSQtWoQw0ptOFF9RebznF0mKGfdht-VH8C8JZlLlbPwgmZg9YKbahVaSKGR3ZnU6jnfMirC8NpFAdp1iD8jdaJn9bKGngH0jFGqogg/s400/Case-of-the-mondays.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
And somehow, it’s Monday again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes I love the weekend. This weekend, for example, I
worked out a bunch on Saturday morning, then we brought the kids to my mom, and
went out on a 10 hour long date. We saw Revenant. We walked to Dickey’s BBQ for
dinner. We watched Brooklyn. We walked to Starbucks for some coffee. We watched
Trumbo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got home a little after
midnight, and fell quickly into a film-induced coma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like we were kids. At least, it felt
like we didn’t <i>HAVE</i> any kids. And that, my friends, was a good time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Last time I wrote, I was talking about my new resolution
toward balance. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Balance</i>. And I’m
still kind of stuck on that, so I’m gonna say a little bit more. Work can be
exhausting. Kids can be exhausting. Homeschooling, things I’ve volunteered for,
and house cleaning, and grocery shopping, and staying on top of bills and
doctor’s appointments, and therapy sessions, and kids activities can be
exhausting. Today for example: 8 hours of work, plus about 3 hours of driving
between clients AT that work, then I have to go grocery shopping, and then at
home, I need to prep for our homeschool group tomorrow, and exercise, because
today I slept in till 6:30 and didn’t get a work out in. And oh right, the 3
year old has been complaining that his shoes don’t fit anymore. So… I need to
go to Target? Maybe Walmart because it’s closer. Or maybe he can just squish
his toes back for another few days. Or maybe no exercise. And of course, 8am
tomorrow morning, we have to go DO the homeschool group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And on and on and on we go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I know I sound super domestic and whiney right now (Ugh. I
have kids <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> a job <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> grocery shopping??? How does she do
it?!) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXFY6ESrTYx1VdsYrqbKqajVUorBAQt-k36o3sbp3Lmj5iS1epH7GrTnuCPwEcuUNGZopXDnLw0_hzZ7WFWKZjiy_ATkInmQKhzm9FNY0Pg-_uirpdLltT9T2FqKhUxS_AifNgcpYnfk/s1600/51VZfp9q10L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXFY6ESrTYx1VdsYrqbKqajVUorBAQt-k36o3sbp3Lmj5iS1epH7GrTnuCPwEcuUNGZopXDnLw0_hzZ7WFWKZjiy_ATkInmQKhzm9FNY0Pg-_uirpdLltT9T2FqKhUxS_AifNgcpYnfk/s400/51VZfp9q10L.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">I don’t know. That’s the answer. </span><i style="text-align: start;">I DON’T KNOW</i><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"> how she does it.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please, if you can get past the barfiness of that moment
real quick, hear that I’m not really griping about my own life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promise. I’m just saying that life, as a
thing, is just exhausting. That’s how life do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I heard somewhere that real rest comes, not from doing
nothing, but from doing something different. And the benefit I’ve got in life
right now is that, I have a million options for that something different.
Because kids is different from work, and different from teaching, and different
from cleaning, and different from meetings, and different from groceries and
different from exercise. I’m not sure that it’s really true, I’ll be honest.
Stuff is stuff, and rest really feels most like rest. But I can tell you this:
When you can watch a movie at the theater any day of the week, it’s not as
special as when you get a free day and watch as many as you can. When you sleep
in every day, a stolen hour in the morning isn’t worth the time. On the
contrary, when you’re busy, when you work, when you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">accomplish</i>, the rest, though rare, is sweeter than honey. Because why, you ask? Because BALANCE, that's why. Boom. Topical. Nailed it again, Maestro.<o:p></o:p></div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-11017304906154845012016-01-23T10:15:00.001-08:002016-01-23T10:15:39.755-08:00The sort of end to the 21 Day Fix: BALANCELike with yoga and, wait for it... with LIFE.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpraSorwWZ8e392md5r3FjOrdOBh8gI5nKl2Oivzul3PnqzgfPqC6p8JCl8q-0WlAE2RjNWwe57BK_xq64rlZ-EgbPCFgpIU-RH2g1szdYisn-3SUdQGWNsYq89QyZg288DG0VZa7qzjQ/s1600/is_balance.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpraSorwWZ8e392md5r3FjOrdOBh8gI5nKl2Oivzul3PnqzgfPqC6p8JCl8q-0WlAE2RjNWwe57BK_xq64rlZ-EgbPCFgpIU-RH2g1szdYisn-3SUdQGWNsYq89QyZg288DG0VZa7qzjQ/s400/is_balance.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Yesterday was officially day 22. Meaning: Yesterday my 21 day fix was over, and I SHOULD have posted a bunch of after pics and measurements and cheered what 3 weeks did to change my world.<br />
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But I didn't. Doesn't speak to a lot of confidence, does it?<br />
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How this 21 days went: Strep throat. Migraine headache.The end.<br />
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What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that for 12 days of this Fix, I didn't exercise. For a few of those days, I barely even moved. I've been great with the diet in the day to day, but have also taken off for a couple of meals the last 2 weekends. Like, not any full bad "days", but a bad dinner, with a bad lunch the following day. Something like that. In the end, I don't feel like I've done enough yet to constitute any sort of "after" pictures. Instead, my new plan is to do every month pictures. On "The Months" tab, I will post my monthly weigh-ins along with my pictures and measurement changes. That way, there will be a comprehensive picture of how the year is going, and I will feel additionally motivated not to get lazy in the first few months of the year, as is my wont.<br />
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Just the same, as of THIS morning (you can see my Friday weigh-ins in the "The Weeks" tab, if you're interested) I weighed 154.6.<br />
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So in the last 3 weeks and 1 day, I have lost 7.4 pounds. I've lost about an inch and a half on my waist (hoping that will crank up now that I'm back into exercise), and up to an inch in a few other places. Today will be my 9th sequential day of return to exercise, and it better be a doozy, because tonight is date night, and I fully intend to eat delicious and unhealthy foods.<br />
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I know my diet isn't exactly perfectly 21 Day Fix sanctioned. I've cut back on diet soda, but I haven't at all cut it out. Somedays I have too much salad dressing. And speaking of, I'm not <i>making </i>those salad dressings, I'm very carefully choosing ones that are low in fat, and more importantly, low in sugar. I've found some great yogurt based dressings that seem relatively healthy. And like I said, I've decided to give myself 1 or 2 cheat meals a week. But in doing those things, in being 80-90% diet appropriate instead of 100%, I almost don't feel at all like I'm on any sort of restrictive diet. I'm eating healthier. I'm cooking healthier. I found a <a href="http://strongandfit4yourlife.com/?p=2898" target="_blank">21 Day fix marinara sauce recipe</a> that even my kids think is AMAZING. The best part of this diet, in my opinion, is it teaches you balance. Eat a good amount of vegetables every day. Stop defaulting to carbs, because you shouldn't have many of those. Cut the sugar. Cut the sugar. Cut the sugar.<br />
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Sure, I've had times, like when I was supposed to bake cookies for a church function this past week, where I felt sad about my diet and me. (I decided spending a few bucks on store bought cookies was worth the expense, that the church kids wouldn't notice, and I wouldn't be in-your-face tempted unto failing with cookie dough. That's called making good life choices.) But for the most part, I feel fine. I'm making it work. I'm finding a balance that works for me, for today, with my diet and exercise and the rest of my life. I'm back to exercising every day, and if you want to judge me for my lack of perfections, remember that I have lost 7.4 pounds in just over 3 weeks, so I'm kind of the expert here, thank you very much.<br />
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GOOD NEWS. For my personal Lose a Marathon challenge, I have 18.8 pounds to go, and am losing at a pace that should have me there by my April 1st goal date! 26.2 is a LOT of pounds to lose. And even though I'm on track, almost 19 is STILL a lot of pounds to lose. I absolutely definitely think I may have been overly ambitious in my middle of the night goal setting, but I'm on track so far, so we'll keep working it at and just see how it goes.<br />
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Happy Saturday, friends. Time for me to go exercise a bunch a burn off the hamburger and french fries I may or may not be planning to eat tonight. (I am. I am planning to. Shh. Don't tell anyone.)~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-8030635981710337062016-01-15T23:37:00.002-08:002016-01-15T23:37:56.794-08:00Is your toothbrush trying to kill you? Why you should always keep a gun in the bathroom, full story, at 11.I got the antibiotics on Monday, January 4. By Tuesday afternoon, I was really starting to turn a corner. By last Friday, I had a sore throat again.<br />
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So Sunday morning, at 6am, on our way out the door to church, (where I was singing on praise team for 2 services), I asked Internet why my Strep throat went away and then decided to come back. And according to Internet? The answer is my toothbrush.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, my toothbrush is trying to kill me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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More accurately, my toothbrush is holding Strep throat, just for safe keeping, and then giving it back to me twice a day when I brush my teeth. Like a friendly dude just trying to help me out. “Here friend! You gave this to me earlier, so I held on to it, now you can have it back! Hope you like it!”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t like it, stupid toothbrush. I really, really don’t like it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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According to Internet, what you SHOULD do when you get strep throat is throw away a million toothbrushes. One use, then into the bin. Which feels outrageously wasteful, but seeing as today, for the first time in 2 weeks, I woke up without a sore throat, so we’re calling it a win.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now for some things: Today, 2 weeks into The Weight Loss of 2016, 157.4.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So:<o:p></o:p></div>
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4.6 pounds lost<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 inch lost on the waist<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 inch lost in booty town<o:p></o:p></div>
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and some other stuff too! Less in the arms and legs, but 1, basically no exercise due to sickness and a 2 day long migraine I’m just walking out of make me not terribly surprised by this. </div>
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There is no 2. Sorry I just said 1.<o:p></o:p></div>
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BUT. Again, the diet has been amazingly consistent (despite that hamburger I ate last Saturday. It was good.) And I exercised, today, so I think I’m off on a better track. Sorry for the lacks of updates.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Happy weekend, friends, oh and yeah:<o:p></o:p></div>
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21.6 pounds to go!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-85187735926453047762016-01-08T01:37:00.000-08:002016-01-08T01:37:18.678-08:00I HAVE AN AWESOME IDEA.I DO INDEED HAVE AN AWESOME IDEA. But I'll get to that in a second.<br />
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Update. Diet is great. Well, diet is painful and makes me sad. Especially since I started diet on a Friday, and then had to be around... you know... the weekend, and this amazing wedding where we made the video, and there was a table covered in giant glass containers filled with chocolates, and people who walk into your personal space to offer you a giant tray of delicious cake all night that I didn't get to have. Which was mean. You should be able to wear some kind of patch or something so that the trays of cake people know not to treat you like a normal human, and so then I don't have to dig my fingernails into my palms and cry a bunch at strangers.<br />
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Ehem. Point is that, thus far, dieting has gone consistently. I'm getting pretty bomb at dieting. </div>
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Workouts, on the other hand, have gone thusly:</div>
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Friday: 30 minute work out video and 5 mile run. It was awesome. I was awesome.</div>
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Saturday: Diiiiidn't exactly exercise, really was not feeling well, and then there was the whole wedding job thingy, so ... I didn't.</div>
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Sunday: Felt pretty miserable and exhausted all day, but got in a 4 mile jog in the evening. Felt great on the run. Felt like I might die by way of sore throat after the run.</div>
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Monday: Went to work. Immediately left work and went to the clinic instead. Got diagnosed with Strep Throat. Went home and moved into bed. No exercise. Lived in the bed.</div>
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In FACT, I haven't exercised a single time this week! I did go out to some stuff at church on Wednesday, and at one point ran to my car to get something, but that made me feel like dying, so I think I'm going to continue this non-exercising plan until I'm more fully mended. Or less lazy. Somewhere in there, for sure. Maybe Saturday.<br />
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But on to my awesome idea, and that is MARATHON. I was lying in bed just now, not sleeping, and thinking about the fact that tomorrow is my weigh in day, and wondering exactly what my goal weight should be. I decided 136 and toned sounded like a good goal. Which made me realize I have to lose 26 pounds from my starting weight. Which is a marathon of pounds. Which made me think of this time back in to 2012 when, after giving birth to numero dos, I was in a "<a href="http://anexerciseinspinningyarn.blogspot.com/2012/09/marathon-lost.html" target="_blank">lose a marathon</a>" challenge, where we all tried to lose 26.2 pounds in 13 weeks. And I totally nailed it, so I think, heck, let's do that again! So then I calculated out 13 weeks, and that would be April 1, which WHOA, is the month of the 5 year anniversary of <a href="http://anexerciseinspinningyarn.blogspot.com/2011/05/best-of-times-and-worst-of-times-and.html" target="_blank">that time when I ran a half marathon.</a> Guys. Guys. Listen, guys. THIS IS AMAZING. Also??? losing 26.2 total pounds would actually put me at 135.8, officially my lowest married person weight. WOW. Everything is perfect.<br />
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So I'm absolutely definitely doing this now. I made up my own challenge, and it is amazing, so it is happening. I got so excited, that even though it's way after midnight and I'm supposed to be recovering from illness, I went and photoshopped a THIS:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYF2ntrsVEuFQ6O6ylo1qk6ThEkuA6RKIxEt8P33siMbt_4HLTUD3JPu1ARay7NRWEKgiCJ0GZkrGbIwp5RO3SsCmt-sYmIFe5P3CxX6uk0WrHAmUIfyaLjJdiNEOuSqLdiL6R7YFju1g/s1600/Marathon+challenge+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYF2ntrsVEuFQ6O6ylo1qk6ThEkuA6RKIxEt8P33siMbt_4HLTUD3JPu1ARay7NRWEKgiCJ0GZkrGbIwp5RO3SsCmt-sYmIFe5P3CxX6uk0WrHAmUIfyaLjJdiNEOuSqLdiL6R7YFju1g/s400/Marathon+challenge+.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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This is my official challenge badge!! I'm posting it to the blog as my pledge to lose 26.2 pounds in the first 13 weeks of 2016. If you'd like to join me, <i>please</i> feel free to steal the badge and post it wherever your awesome lives. Because let's be honest, 6:30am me is going to be very upset with everything that transpired hours after I was supposed to be asleep tonight, and a little solidarity would make me feel a lot better!</div>
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Alright. gooood night, dearest friends. Check in tomorrow for some Week 1 results!</div>
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P.S. I'm also thinking part of this challenge means I should run another 13 miles this coming April. Because I haven't run that far since 5 years ago, this coming April. But I don't yet want to make <i>too</i> many promises that my 6:30am self is going to be angry about.<br />
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Okay now good night for reals.</div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-53250923634267043242016-01-01T21:53:00.000-08:002016-01-01T21:53:10.776-08:00This is the New Year. Reality Bites.Honest moment: I've been avoiding writing this post for most of the last hour. I uploaded the pictures I took earlier today. I was unhappy, because everything is worse than I thought, and the pictures made me grumpy. So I made tea. And perused the internet. I used my last protein serving of the day to have some Greek yogurt because I was hungry. Played some WordBrain. Watched some crappy TV.<br />
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The thing is, I enjoy writing this blog. I enjoy writing it, I'm quite certain, more than anyone out there enjoys reading it. There've been dozens of times where it was the thing I did when I was avoiding doing something else. Buuuuut then there's tonight. So rip it off like a bandaid, here's my grumpy stuff, this is what I look like on January 1, 2015.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JzYs_ZgX0UbFApkYtu2rXyJqAbj9mRsYOmH-9F-xRBgY9Uq3PT0Uq-dSkw5FOKE4cXNQhgGYJv9w_YJ5n6bUmsFiRTP9sXdV9BohFmM9MLEBhZ32ya37K6OenGf8qsdQYaizrVNIhgo/s1600/IMG_3231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JzYs_ZgX0UbFApkYtu2rXyJqAbj9mRsYOmH-9F-xRBgY9Uq3PT0Uq-dSkw5FOKE4cXNQhgGYJv9w_YJ5n6bUmsFiRTP9sXdV9BohFmM9MLEBhZ32ya37K6OenGf8qsdQYaizrVNIhgo/s400/IMG_3231.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yNLQ3eiAMhoVGhKY45G6WGXzFP4AOC_qs3b9KSTCbk_HMoi8iwvGzYXZuuuEJTln6MrTCoXUCNTURkT0NnqNfZDx8z5-st9fctb88nh5nqioY3XVua4lQ95KvobP5_2QizruN4zuP70/s1600/IMG_3233.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yNLQ3eiAMhoVGhKY45G6WGXzFP4AOC_qs3b9KSTCbk_HMoi8iwvGzYXZuuuEJTln6MrTCoXUCNTURkT0NnqNfZDx8z5-st9fctb88nh5nqioY3XVua4lQ95KvobP5_2QizruN4zuP70/s400/IMG_3233.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIA0VXZQcOI8ftilcAT2DYu3rF8rcqTGvujSg5V68KCqkZzZBy-frLrZcTPWM-FA_63-j56RolvKBRMb93i1PHg4e-PzF40VDFfZWPUc9__CtI3tAQIAkIAtkQR4MNVzjBxOlamIjddes/s1600/IMG_3237.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIA0VXZQcOI8ftilcAT2DYu3rF8rcqTGvujSg5V68KCqkZzZBy-frLrZcTPWM-FA_63-j56RolvKBRMb93i1PHg4e-PzF40VDFfZWPUc9__CtI3tAQIAkIAtkQR4MNVzjBxOlamIjddes/s400/IMG_3237.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
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I'm disappointed with myself for being grumpy right now. I had this whole "thing" I was doing today, this thing about rising above, about being happy and cheery and accepting my choices, and most importantly learning to like myself in whatever iteration I happen to visit. See, I have this tendency to be super binary about my feelings about myself. If I weigh less than 150, I'm happy with me. If I weigh more than 155, I am distinctly UNhappy with me. If I weight between 150 and 155... I give myself the stink-eye. You watch your growing butt, 150-155 me.</div>
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I really hate that I'm this shallow with myself. I don't hate other people based on the presence or lack of gooey jelly belly. I reserve that judgement for myself. But I decided that I wanted to be a bigger person (whaddapching) today, and not get all stupid grumpy about my weight.</div>
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But here I am, and I'm grumpy. </div>
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162.0 pounds today. 162 pounds of grumpy.</div>
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I did well today. It was hard to walk past the left over candies, and it was hard to avoid snacking. My diet's been so bad lately, that my body is used to a distinctly higher number of calories than I had today. My body thinks it's hungry. But despite the scary temptations, I did quite well! I stuck to the diet, did the work out video, and chased it down with a 5 mile run. BOOM FOR ME, YO. </div>
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So this is the bad part. The hard part. The ugly pictures and the big number part. This is just day 1. 2016 has a bunch more of these puppies in store, and I'm going to rock them <i>all</i>. </div>
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Night friends!!</div>
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<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-10264349426917997702015-12-31T22:06:00.001-08:002015-12-31T22:06:13.115-08:00NYE FTW!!!<div style="text-align: left;">
Happy New Year's Eve, folks! Not sure exactly why I'm writing, I'm sure most of my super fab readers are all partying hardcore, being all fancy like</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0kTtxDq9KMYi_0BDsFcbHqC3la67LuUHUAahZZxB7kYxOoEDmcpzmaI1arP830SofnOqFdu7GndWLnwVc2yqY1irFTAop3hrW7p-3qliAtbFZ20Qs5g-NB8slMu9Hsh7moC8RDkrICI/s1600/new-year2-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0kTtxDq9KMYi_0BDsFcbHqC3la67LuUHUAahZZxB7kYxOoEDmcpzmaI1arP830SofnOqFdu7GndWLnwVc2yqY1irFTAop3hrW7p-3qliAtbFZ20Qs5g-NB8slMu9Hsh7moC8RDkrICI/s640/new-year2-edit.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
or maybe like<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Jf9ZTeD5Qmwqu-5-PPCp2ZGv2WndNw4LKTS5QZnX9vKEDv1jxbEH1qS1yEJmAvx6NQkORXNGdmFUIKJK21C4Y0jaNbfIl6H5qSigCtNMPK1LEdX53TrHwzdoBZQVsnmqk7GLZedyhCA/s1600/happycrazynewyearcrdannorman.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Jf9ZTeD5Qmwqu-5-PPCp2ZGv2WndNw4LKTS5QZnX9vKEDv1jxbEH1qS1yEJmAvx6NQkORXNGdmFUIKJK21C4Y0jaNbfIl6H5qSigCtNMPK1LEdX53TrHwzdoBZQVsnmqk7GLZedyhCA/s640/happycrazynewyearcrdannorman.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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or even like </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlxMMufyc1jYcSalWdWPrPwWUjyS1oigpWBsagKGli8X9FUDuusQ_YA9I6dJdLaOSbJOhjk3KSHMhjlq6X7i6hcN89eCbN__r24JadurE2qjFGpYMgKm8_5WgG7rbxCDmvB10XsNwRb4/s1600/polls_extreme_football_5535_464366_answer_6_xlarge.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlxMMufyc1jYcSalWdWPrPwWUjyS1oigpWBsagKGli8X9FUDuusQ_YA9I6dJdLaOSbJOhjk3KSHMhjlq6X7i6hcN89eCbN__r24JadurE2qjFGpYMgKm8_5WgG7rbxCDmvB10XsNwRb4/s640/polls_extreme_football_5535_464366_answer_6_xlarge.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I don't know how you party. And that's cool. You be you. </div>
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Meanwhile, I'm over here chillin on the couch, wearing a hoodie and getting ready to watch When Harry Met Sally like</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQsC_3S4QEAc9IEgGLqtKaBKrtTHxn8bfXEvqD2I_a8ZiIvXsS2sknXqcQrA6lTWMdpPK9r07FhVfziLSzjjTRRGjK7bADVTaft6g7q8LCjm9dDDLHjiTonIrgDruWt5xm6pobpVg2R4/s1600/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQsC_3S4QEAc9IEgGLqtKaBKrtTHxn8bfXEvqD2I_a8ZiIvXsS2sknXqcQrA6lTWMdpPK9r07FhVfziLSzjjTRRGjK7bADVTaft6g7q8LCjm9dDDLHjiTonIrgDruWt5xm6pobpVg2R4/s400/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Heeeeeeeey!</div>
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The kids are asleep. We made the slightly insane choice to let them stay up an extra hour to watch the ball drop in New York (gotta love West Coast parenting!), but they just got all loopy because they were sleepy, and then they were confused that we were counting backwards at the television and dancing around the living room. "... Why are Mommy and Daddy DOING that??" </div>
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Speaking of which, out of nowhere:</div>
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Shane: I'd be a HOT female. Because I know how to <i>work it.</i></div>
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Hmm. I'm not so sure I want to have a deep heart to heart about his resolutions this year. Some thoughts are better when kept on the <i>inside.</i></div>
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So the kids didn't care too much about the ball dropping or the counting or the celebrating, but they DID like the Sparkling Cider, so I guess it wasn't too bad.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivBFMKdVUnjPfJV9A8fq9wHAVa7fVbLntULHfNBoHZL4TZrRoDnPWZXRP1O1mHVMv2ECPQjGUfHgDVJI_TEEremNf0qztgeWym_hAXfxt77MC6IO1wtlH1sNBJXEDia85wYaBn3B7SQQo/s1600/IMG_3544.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivBFMKdVUnjPfJV9A8fq9wHAVa7fVbLntULHfNBoHZL4TZrRoDnPWZXRP1O1mHVMv2ECPQjGUfHgDVJI_TEEremNf0qztgeWym_hAXfxt77MC6IO1wtlH1sNBJXEDia85wYaBn3B7SQQo/s400/IMG_3544.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Anyhoosit, earlier tonight I grocery shopped, and I absolutely selfied all over that FoodMaxx. Here is my story. </div>
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Once upon a time, I went to the grocery store.</div>
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Oh yeah, It's also important to mention that I went to the grocery store dressed up like a homeless. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsT6_n2jj_7h5lbiaOf5ZeuJe4E0lS9h89a5kFACWaLNdKsjZKYqQnFTxCg9cHDH_xasgjoKb_7G7idm5HPREPp0rt1sR7ziqIbi7llCdA8BntVPaG0g5jFyNYPcDFLZ-WQ44aWcO76A/s1600/IMG_3497.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsT6_n2jj_7h5lbiaOf5ZeuJe4E0lS9h89a5kFACWaLNdKsjZKYqQnFTxCg9cHDH_xasgjoKb_7G7idm5HPREPp0rt1sR7ziqIbi7llCdA8BntVPaG0g5jFyNYPcDFLZ-WQ44aWcO76A/s320/IMG_3497.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I bought this produce....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCMjhGZy1iagcnZuWW3LPokFCa8T6ioxGNODcR6Md512dNulqgjEBkXqL4J7H4z4mUjWIAm77WqzM2xBXEU_RULC6p2rcvTM4K81Z2rALOg9vMwePkURIhIhQV3Dtcb8HdZ4xC3liu50/s1600/IMG_3505.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCMjhGZy1iagcnZuWW3LPokFCa8T6ioxGNODcR6Md512dNulqgjEBkXqL4J7H4z4mUjWIAm77WqzM2xBXEU_RULC6p2rcvTM4K81Z2rALOg9vMwePkURIhIhQV3Dtcb8HdZ4xC3liu50/s640/IMG_3505.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It made me feel extremely sexy, all that produce. Even with the homeless thing going on...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WN8PMpc2GdPHIbv1GUjoK9_5HHaB2yAhA6P27pxMj4LAa6Uvjl-iuaLYvJTtYM011A-2ilWdc33-UbErOeata5eU8x0N-Z71fhS3shjunFRHNS4l1ctQ9lTLXXwa3Pv7WfLieKdcRuA/s1600/IMG_3509.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WN8PMpc2GdPHIbv1GUjoK9_5HHaB2yAhA6P27pxMj4LAa6Uvjl-iuaLYvJTtYM011A-2ilWdc33-UbErOeata5eU8x0N-Z71fhS3shjunFRHNS4l1ctQ9lTLXXwa3Pv7WfLieKdcRuA/s320/IMG_3509.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because I knew that some day soon, I'm going to look like this.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktKhimcTb5CZhLr_cl4Jw786LvNJHezjtY7bobWjCbXuF14y0XC7x-5HS1nw0VUZHTTYAB2wxYTDQuJ-3Kx3skHDrCzT7SqRpy8CDKu20JPyBfEqzHMfigW_48mQwhP3HK4Oygje9GaE/s1600/IMG_3506.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktKhimcTb5CZhLr_cl4Jw786LvNJHezjtY7bobWjCbXuF14y0XC7x-5HS1nw0VUZHTTYAB2wxYTDQuJ-3Kx3skHDrCzT7SqRpy8CDKu20JPyBfEqzHMfigW_48mQwhP3HK4Oygje9GaE/s400/IMG_3506.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The end.</div>
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And that's officially the first and last times I take pictures of myself in the grocery store. All that harsh lighting and pushing food around, it's just not ever going to give me quite that "Kardashian" feel I've been going for.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Okay. We're When Harry Met Sally-ing now. And it's maybe my favorite movie ever, so I'm ditching all you losers. Tomorrow though. Tomorrow we will have some words.</div>
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Happy, happy, happiest of new years to you all! Joy and happiness and blessings to you all!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMD3Lsumt5Ex3NZYXoKHD_710Eufpo2d3WEIsqcZ40j6QmQoMC-2LOyVtZD8CEE6LsATowSyssRmq2ctLsMmhWAJI7f4ZxRK6RWW1bEjQvhVJfWFxFQg9fQNbXldIFSt4Vp4BkYY-MahY/s1600/61626dfd645ef941f617b7edb53ec117-1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMD3Lsumt5Ex3NZYXoKHD_710Eufpo2d3WEIsqcZ40j6QmQoMC-2LOyVtZD8CEE6LsATowSyssRmq2ctLsMmhWAJI7f4ZxRK6RWW1bEjQvhVJfWFxFQg9fQNbXldIFSt4Vp4BkYY-MahY/s640/61626dfd645ef941f617b7edb53ec117-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-23032815671206315952015-12-29T22:50:00.001-08:002015-12-29T22:50:48.571-08:003 more days till diet means I'm not currently on a diet.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI6mWJBk43UNqjHTQNjKODTVH1cQ9Yg34pPSmuJznyXHwe4bbY1eizcvu5YHyndGQIHZFlujoTgfL06Q4xyaObp07mx2TNYZuZnrgfKqHsFKEd_jQymja4UcOeI5V0_5EcH8zSRVEdxg/s1600/Food+12-29.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI6mWJBk43UNqjHTQNjKODTVH1cQ9Yg34pPSmuJznyXHwe4bbY1eizcvu5YHyndGQIHZFlujoTgfL06Q4xyaObp07mx2TNYZuZnrgfKqHsFKEd_jQymja4UcOeI5V0_5EcH8zSRVEdxg/s640/Food+12-29.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Yeah. Second Dinner. Bet you didn't even know that was a thing. I made it a thing.<br />
<br />
Obviously, I'm going a little crazy with the fat thing and the eating thing. I'm just really going about this whole plan in a different way than ever before. Last time I went on a diet, I spent the last week before the diet "began" trying to eat a little better and work out more regularly to prepare. So that my before stats wouldn't be so bad. But it has since occurred to me that this is a really lame way to go about dieting. Because life can't ALL be about restrictive living. So this week, I'm eating all the junk that I won't be touching for 3 weeks.... 6 weeks.... 20 weeks... something weeks. Whatever it takes to get me to lose about 30 pounds. 30 pounds weeks.<br />
<br />
Anyway the point is, restriction is coming. And I intend to do restriction AWESOME. I plan to get up early and exercise before work, I plan to grill chicken so I've got lean protein to eat every day for lunch, I plan to be INCREDIBLE at it. You'll all be impressed, I assure you. But I'm not there yet. Right now, I'm being incredible at candy and sourdough and coffee creamer. I'm "enjoying my last cigarette", as it were. Except it's not a cigarette. I tried one of those once and I hated it. THAT was my last cigarette. It's a metaphor, you see? My cigarette is like... chocolate. Or some kind of giant pile of carbohydrates. With candy on it. And also ice cream.<br />
<br />
So there you have it. Publicly and unapologetically, getting chunkier on purpose. Well... sort of on purpose. But with deliberate action, so I guess yeah, on purpose.<br />
<br />
But I think there's a good diet thing here. (As I'm writing this I am also eating another Rolo and 2 more Hershey's kisses. I am not ashamed. Even though I totally should be but whatever.) Anyway, yeah, I think this is a good diet thing. I am putting myself out there. I am letting you know how bad this got so that I am freaking accountable to be a better human in 2016. Because if I don't, you'll just be left knowing how disgusting I am. Because ferreals, there's a chance I head back to the kitchen for a few more chocolate things.<br />
<br />
So there you have it, folks. Being disgusting now, so that I can be super not disgusting later. It's science, let me assure you.<br />
<br />
Also science: the picture that has me the most excited to get to the weight losing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ePSx8Td0DcyOvpCx_d_qnede3PRDxrH4gK8MGW3LVwxjNwcoHN9_LJVCqArUpWYWxa3bonWq89kGz_WWEpLknrH_v8Vv44S2CJ3Tq3G0-xTzzP6TnyQ7Lh-8uanofUDmdj_PpMBXGEo/s1600/Front+full.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ePSx8Td0DcyOvpCx_d_qnede3PRDxrH4gK8MGW3LVwxjNwcoHN9_LJVCqArUpWYWxa3bonWq89kGz_WWEpLknrH_v8Vv44S2CJ3Tq3G0-xTzzP6TnyQ7Lh-8uanofUDmdj_PpMBXGEo/s640/Front+full.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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3 short weeks of diet and exercise. Actual visible results. And shoot, just imagine what 3 months would do! Hashtag Bikini Bodies, Y'all!!</div>
~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-85598656550668292242015-12-28T21:45:00.005-08:002015-12-28T21:45:52.640-08:00It is official. Christmas is dun. Dun. Dun dun DUUUUUUN!!!!Sitting on the couch watching the Broncos beat the Bengals with a turnover in overtime, having spent the entire day lounging in pajamas at my mother's house, celebrating the Navidad. And I'm enjoying life. And then suddenly I realize:<br />
<br />
Real life comes back tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Ewwww. Real life is busy and gross and it has lots of responsibilities and ZERO fudge. I'm not sure how they even get away with that.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is for writing reports and making schedules and it has meetings and appointments and phone calls aplenty. That's not twinkly lights and wrapping paper. That's not nice at all. That's hard work. But here's the thing about Christmas: It is beautiful, but it doesn't last. And here's the thing about twinkly lights: Our electric bill is OUTRAGEOUS. Like, "time to sell one of the kids" OUTRAGEOUS. And here's the thing about vacation: it turns out I can't afford my electric bill if I don't get off my tukhus and get back to work. And here's the thing about fudge: I have become a chunky butt. A real live, lumpy, chunky butt.<br />
<br />
So it's decided: it is about dang time for real life to come back. Probably. Even though I'm feeling very whiney about the whole idea of tomorrow.<br />
<br />
But I am Mrs. Brightside, so I've been working myself up to getting excited about January. Because lets be honest. You really have to make some effort here. Worst. Month. Ever. January is long and it's gray and dreary and it doesn't have anything that's exciting except for some dead guys' birthdays. And also, we're pretty much all fat and poor in January thanks to stupid dumb Christmas*.<br />
<br />
But I've decided that January, for all of it's dreary, chubby poverty, can maybe instead be a new time of celebration and excitement. December can be all about your family, but January is all about your <i>life</i>. Your <i>LIFE</i> people! January is the time when we all get together and decide what kind of humans we want to be when we grow up. January is for big dreams. For inspiration. For hope. For fresh starts, for clean slates, for do overs. January lets you reflect on the past, and project out 365 days of future. And that's not sad, or fat, or poor, or dreary. That's kind of exciting.<br />
<br />
So these last few days of December, it seems, will be about getting back to work, and planning for the future. Making some schedules for workouts. Planning our meals. Cleaning out the house. And of course, deciding who I want to be, the year I turn 33.<br />
<br />
Okay. That's it. It's getting late and rumor has it that tomorrow, I'm supposed to be a grown up. But before I leave, here is a picture of me that I thought would be awesome if only I had glasses. So I got some glasses. Now I'm judging you. You're welcome.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIvrWfxGctOorBwYt7jXTMFjI-LXNo0fzGx4Kk6cJl9q9-ITByAYejkb4-pwgxQzqctxWAw3XmtIrwJQE5ruONTXOVVzJuhuJoEWGJnOs4Dp1tf5cOnpLw1YZoL4fjcMNsLvJCZ68lAw/s1600/Glassley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIvrWfxGctOorBwYt7jXTMFjI-LXNo0fzGx4Kk6cJl9q9-ITByAYejkb4-pwgxQzqctxWAw3XmtIrwJQE5ruONTXOVVzJuhuJoEWGJnOs4Dp1tf5cOnpLw1YZoL4fjcMNsLvJCZ68lAw/s400/Glassley.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
Nighty night, friends of mine!<br />
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*I'm so, so sorry Christmas. I didn't mean it. Please don't leave me.~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-15151764122568976952015-12-27T21:12:00.001-08:002015-12-27T21:12:45.524-08:00ZOMG IT'S ALMOST 2016. A reflection.It's just after 8pm. The kids are in bed. They're not asleep, not by a long shot, but they're in bed. Deep, cleansing breath.<br />
<br />
I should really take up yoga.<br />
<br />
So don't be horribly shocked, but for the sixth year in a row, it's coming up on the new year, and I decided to get back to blogging. And it feels cliche. But then you know what? Who cares. The thing is, I <i>like</i> the New Year. I <i>like</i> reflection. I <i>like</i> reassessment. And I <i>like</i> making resolutions. So I'm here, and so I'm gonna, and you're just gonna need to deal with it. Happy friggin New Year and all.<br />
<br />
And as far as reflection goes, wow. 2015 has been like wow. The last post on here is from July. Since July,<br />
we traveled to Idaho.<br />
we bought a minivan.<br />
we started homeschooling with a new group, where I get to teach a small group of kids once a week.<br />
we went through the whole soccer season.<br />
we threw birthday parties for 3 of our kids.<br />
we therapied.<br />
we Halloweened.<br />
we Thanksgivinged.<br />
we Christmased.<br />
we... I gained a bunch of weight.<br />
and for the biggest surprise change of the year, we got a whole new human.<br />
<br />
Our foster daughter has been with us full time for over 4 months now. I can't show you a picture until adoption is finalized, which, thanks to the legendary lightning speed of government, won't be for many many more months. But I did decide to start giving people a "feel" for our family, by turning our newest addition into our ninja-est addition. Now it's not creepy. Now it's totally cool.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6IhnrfX7RzVyB0O_v6Pis8cGIoGS4PTQyc5xCbrJUWMHofpblRmX5HTkVpLmcY_t1NzY_NQUOcbTrlErAAk1QfVEaMgeQTLWHBFpq72dzu3C8kmK7HUUE3g7emcm8EAjr39vWTpczhJE/s1600/Ninja+Christmas+morning+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6IhnrfX7RzVyB0O_v6Pis8cGIoGS4PTQyc5xCbrJUWMHofpblRmX5HTkVpLmcY_t1NzY_NQUOcbTrlErAAk1QfVEaMgeQTLWHBFpq72dzu3C8kmK7HUUE3g7emcm8EAjr39vWTpczhJE/s640/Ninja+Christmas+morning+2015.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas morning around the tree. Everyone looks a little nuts and no one is really sitting still. Because Real Life, folks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's been a year of change. New experiences for us. New activities. A schedule packed so full of work and appointments and social workers and court dates and education and church and sports that sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. And also? It's really noisy. I have to learn how to relax around noisy. And the messy. And the crazy. Ooooh the crazy.<br />
<br />
And it seems in the midst of this life change, I have, to use a term the kids are saying these days, "let myself go", or "gotten really super fat again". I don't know. It's all very technical.<br />
<br />
But I don't feel bad about it. Cuz the way I figure it, I basically had a new baby. Just... a peculiarly tall new baby, with a suprising grasp on the English language and a passion for all things Frozen. BUT THE POINT IS THAT I HAD A BABY. And I always get fat when I have a baby. That's to be expected. The baby wanted ice cream and hamburgers. And really, I only gained like, 15-20 pounds. So, if you think about it, best baby ever.<br />
<br />
We've been adjusting. We've been learning how to live our new life, learning how to fit in our new person and our new responsibilities, and how to do life now. And I guess, I found that transitioning was just a little easier with some extra padding. I need it for protection. The world is a dangerous place.<br />
<br />
But now we're over 4 months in, the holidays are winding down, and we're starting our new year off as a family of 6. Still learning. Still adjusting. Still changing. But it's time to take the training wheels of self-indulgence off. It's time for me to work a little harder, and to get back in shape.<br />
<br />
We're having our last family Christmas celebration of the season tomorrow, and I have 8 more presents to wrap before bed tonight. Also, for all my hard work with the present-wrapping and the joy-providing, I intend to reward myself. I will eat and drink and be oh so merry. I'll check in on January first with some starter picks, the official jumping off weight, the plans for change and I'm sure more than a few tears and WHY OH WHY DID I EVER LET IT GET THIS BAD!?! but I have a few more days of indulgence to go, so I'm not there yet. Because there's this new thing I learned this year: Sometimes you can even just get fat on purpose.<br />
<br />
Bet you didn't see that one coming.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas, friends. Indulge, rest, love, and joy all over the place. Because by the end of this week, ladies and gents, it is GO time. But for right now, I'm gonna go Christmas a lil bit more.<br />
<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-12819809490641034292015-07-28T22:01:00.001-07:002015-07-28T22:01:56.576-07:00All Done! Day 1!Today is Day 22 of my 21 Day Fix! Today is a happy day, because today is RESULTS day. Eep!<div>
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<div>
It has been rough! Not horrible, none of it is horrible, and I've learned good things and am probably a generally healthier person for having been through this. But still, I'm chubby because I'm lazy and I like to eat things. This past 3 weeks have been different. So there ya go.</div>
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So, LET'S GET TO IT!! The measurements:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQn1voxhWfG7LuzLaSF4qBjhN-YU0FmnIhtAGvNAuMEBti020M_1NUOQqKsdx5gZkMhMwavHk27wNnwGV7WeDL3CI9m0Lu4P-X2rHkwFA3jJlbpXDVP2GKouwRKEuD_3ZLTAUA8zR1t8/s1600/IMG_1147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQn1voxhWfG7LuzLaSF4qBjhN-YU0FmnIhtAGvNAuMEBti020M_1NUOQqKsdx5gZkMhMwavHk27wNnwGV7WeDL3CI9m0Lu4P-X2rHkwFA3jJlbpXDVP2GKouwRKEuD_3ZLTAUA8zR1t8/s320/IMG_1147.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif5BKsU_-QwqIxE3vU1S2aX048W7m2ffljcccJI-Vi3v8iJzLOelvr8BjqnXQQfqYY3ZfFcpcrxoKspdSHftWkzT1Uvh2xaRIWkPKFRHIa0A2i64vYTE5lBOQ2xn10FFgGm65EHGhX1bM/s1600/IMG_1148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif5BKsU_-QwqIxE3vU1S2aX048W7m2ffljcccJI-Vi3v8iJzLOelvr8BjqnXQQfqYY3ZfFcpcrxoKspdSHftWkzT1Uvh2xaRIWkPKFRHIa0A2i64vYTE5lBOQ2xn10FFgGm65EHGhX1bM/s320/IMG_1148.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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21 Days:</div>
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10 inches lost. </div>
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7 pounds lost.</div>
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Also, it's not on here, but I like lower belly measurement, because it's my least favorite body part. Well, the mannish app version of me doesn't accept that measurement, so I'll just tell you. It was 38.5, it is now 36.5. So there ya go. Not so bad.</div>
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Smaller arms. That's apparent. And the belly. Can you tell? It's smaller too.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeQzx7hZQfSUU9_QuMGfi23sPE0ScnAu-cZ94fNgCVGBIDV-5Y0cD1Yhw1OCQHhpGrbbsIZGicavq3-tu5ihFGoNY3hTxYrp2W_Z0-eV4a7QMihBZtNpnCa4A5HGqCWLt6kq-QYDQQ28/s1600/Front+full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeQzx7hZQfSUU9_QuMGfi23sPE0ScnAu-cZ94fNgCVGBIDV-5Y0cD1Yhw1OCQHhpGrbbsIZGicavq3-tu5ihFGoNY3hTxYrp2W_Z0-eV4a7QMihBZtNpnCa4A5HGqCWLt6kq-QYDQQ28/s640/Front+full.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Also, smaller face! You don't take any measurements of your face, probably because other peoples aren't quite as cheeky as myself so don't consider it a prime place for weight loss, but check it out! Smaller face!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThjkt87260_DC4agf5aLrQJM1qfmyuy6gDdJc_tSg4VTEq79T2Mfta-rGsFuMTH3tQL-TgVHRASCrUSA0d4lNYUNeFWk5k2PAPUV4HotaPhlY_rq_jPmshAPZXKaXEl6QFzcWEHgq1G0/s1600/3+quarter+angle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThjkt87260_DC4agf5aLrQJM1qfmyuy6gDdJc_tSg4VTEq79T2Mfta-rGsFuMTH3tQL-TgVHRASCrUSA0d4lNYUNeFWk5k2PAPUV4HotaPhlY_rq_jPmshAPZXKaXEl6QFzcWEHgq1G0/s640/3+quarter+angle.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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There is something very crooked about my body. I'm going to have to look into that.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPLSqI9XcxPldFhNTrtfJmnrheqKw49inUh2S2t6LX1K_q5X6q5qOU2LpYCi3xKaAb-r42TYZYdwJ6M2BHPwxk9SwOb6JiTagXdaaeoVqmKPfomAet3j9oPRKSGYXfs7elIXwb4VpKUU/s1600/Backs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPLSqI9XcxPldFhNTrtfJmnrheqKw49inUh2S2t6LX1K_q5X6q5qOU2LpYCi3xKaAb-r42TYZYdwJ6M2BHPwxk9SwOb6JiTagXdaaeoVqmKPfomAet3j9oPRKSGYXfs7elIXwb4VpKUU/s640/Backs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I was looking through the pictures and I felt like, well, it's different, it's better, but despite what Autumn the crazy exercise dictator asserted, even though I gave her 21 days, I'm not going to lie and say this is the body I WANT. I'm closer. I'm 21 days closer, but not THERE yet.</div>
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But then I looked again, and I noticed something and I thought, oh man, I HAVE to show them this. SO here you go, it's</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVobM8PDeQLQhU8DnNm9t4kBbISIxaZSl2UyP32Tf4hHrDfuItrpOYidhZXQR4RTAoJNIT61gD4AyMulM1xZBINRym_nVPNIBhelnVo13pzek1C8weheWmf2faYfxBNdCHllolWcWB1B4/s1600/Butts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVobM8PDeQLQhU8DnNm9t4kBbISIxaZSl2UyP32Tf4hHrDfuItrpOYidhZXQR4RTAoJNIT61gD4AyMulM1xZBINRym_nVPNIBhelnVo13pzek1C8weheWmf2faYfxBNdCHllolWcWB1B4/s640/Butts.jpg" width="376" /></a></div>
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Can you see that?! It's A TOTALLY DIFFERENT BUTT. All freakin perky and chipper looking. And in case you were curious, yes, I already told my husband I was going to do this. </div>
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Me: "SHANE COME HERE AND LOOK AT THIS!"</div>
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Him: "What?"</div>
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Me: "I'm putting together my before/after pictures and OMIGOSH I FOUND SOMETHING! LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT MY BUTT."</div>
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Him: "Yeah..."</div>
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Me: "IT'S TOTALLY DIFFERENT! IT'S A <i>TOTALLY</i> DIFFERENT BUTT!!"</div>
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Him: "Yeah! It's good."</div>
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Me: "... I think I'm going to put my butt on the internet now."</div>
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Him: ... </div>
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Actually no, he didn't say a whole lot of things at that point. Weird.</div>
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So that's it, my first round of 21 fix done. Today was Day 1 again because my after pictures aren't quite after enough yet. So bubbly water cheers to another great 3 weeks!</div>
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Oh and last but not least, Crazy Exercise Dictator keeps saying that we should post our favorite yoga pose. So I thought I'd finally play along:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmp0rYpzh_KvfH2-HlRy-cCr0BMpIXIh7iVjKm5Vdj7r_NPNKFpJdEMzeIBvfwmqrUN5fvDuTrxE1cbqg0NBm0ihnrYSqUdJX4c7UBUzxO9lzmyRXjqliHc7Vu9BlQsT7eakrIXwWRNdY/s1600/IMG_1114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmp0rYpzh_KvfH2-HlRy-cCr0BMpIXIh7iVjKm5Vdj7r_NPNKFpJdEMzeIBvfwmqrUN5fvDuTrxE1cbqg0NBm0ihnrYSqUdJX4c7UBUzxO9lzmyRXjqliHc7Vu9BlQsT7eakrIXwWRNdY/s400/IMG_1114.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's my personal modification on Corpse Pose. And more realistic, I think.</div>
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G'night friends! Tomorrow is Day 2, wooHOO!!<br />
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-59192536315496639272015-07-25T23:01:00.004-07:002015-07-25T23:01:52.671-07:0019 Days and Counting!I didn't want to, guys. I was exhausted and the kids were already in bed and I'd just recently eaten dinner and I did NOT want to do it.<br />
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But I did it.<br />
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And then I cried without tears for just a minute. And now drinking water makes me feel like I'm going to throw up.<br />
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But guys, I did it.<br />
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And I want to say that some days, that's good enough. But truth? I think maybe that's the BEST. Because exercise is easy when it's easy. It's pleasant when you <i>want</i> to do it. But when every ounce of you screams to please please flop onto the couch? That's when it really counts. That's when you're not giving in to your sad lazy self. That's when you know you're making a difference. (This is when you should picture me, standing on top of our ottoman, gazing wistfully off over my right shoulder while a towel-cape drapes down my back, blown softly by a very mysterious breeze. You got the image? Good. Then we may continue.)<br />
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This week has had more "don't wanna" than "wanna" days for me. The last slide to day 21 has had an unusually large number of bumps in it. Many of those rough days were enhanced by work and life occurrences, lots of surprises, some great, some less than. But the point here is that I DID IT EVERY FREAKING DAY AND NOW IT'S ALMOST DONE. Woohoo!<br />
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Beginning of this week, I bought myself a present, because of masochism, I suppose.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBAOSACspTYpCFRUK8eJ_DKqn777ICONyTGTGq29CBMSqTfG_soqaSmHMLqt1fZHXBibnyUXHL-cRVHU4zyAxT1CK-zm3FrPGASisGm9uW0-4fJdEx8SqrHP9eAgpwez4UaAScR5L9wM/s1600/IMG_1034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBAOSACspTYpCFRUK8eJ_DKqn777ICONyTGTGq29CBMSqTfG_soqaSmHMLqt1fZHXBibnyUXHL-cRVHU4zyAxT1CK-zm3FrPGASisGm9uW0-4fJdEx8SqrHP9eAgpwez4UaAScR5L9wM/s400/IMG_1034.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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8 pounders, so that I officially have something to call my "heavy" weights. Week 2, I thought arm day was easy. Week 3, arm day made me cry. But just to make me feel worse about myself, my 5 year old skin -and-bones daughter has started using 5 pound weights as her heavy weights (her Barbie dolls are her light weights, everybody saw awwwwwww). But anyway, I'm looking down at my tiny little pipsqueak of a daughter doing her variation of the same moves as me, using weights that are each only 3 pounds less than the ones I'm using and... geez. It's about time I crank it up.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_y-PJmXlZk5glmnd4oVj8g1O_9LwCRYUUaA9lTM2KlOuMGitnzZDB6jnlonz8yvY78Su1rcWX2lBvf7R1hZmiu-0e74grF4EpUredyhDnEu2aiBObvpDt3uVOuLoDDQUNpWNY5RGdq0/s1600/IMG_1035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_y-PJmXlZk5glmnd4oVj8g1O_9LwCRYUUaA9lTM2KlOuMGitnzZDB6jnlonz8yvY78Su1rcWX2lBvf7R1hZmiu-0e74grF4EpUredyhDnEu2aiBObvpDt3uVOuLoDDQUNpWNY5RGdq0/s640/IMG_1035.jpg" width="523" /></a></div>
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Doggy dog doesn't like when we exercise. All that excited movement going no where seems to drive her into a tizzy. Also, that blue thing there used to be her ball. Also also, cutest dog you've ever seen, right? I thought so.</div>
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Anyway, back to it. I've cheated a bit, I'll be honest. Little bit last weekend, little bit yesterday. However, I think, I never cheated TOO bad. I walked into it with eyes open, and tried to make good choices around the bad ones. And honestly, there was maybe a nice thing about the cheats: I'm learning how to LIVE this diet. I'm learning how to incorporate a bad meal, a singular dessert, or a bad day, and not turn it into a gorging, lazy week slash life.</div>
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And also? The weight is coming off. It's noticeable and I know that because I'm choosing to wear some clothes that normally freak me out. And those clothes don't freak me out so much anymore. And I feel good about that. (There goes that towel cape again.)</div>
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And then there's this thing where I keep showing everyone my muscles. And yes, I'm aware that this makes me look like a 3 year old, but sometimes, maybe, toddlers have the right idea about things. And really, you should see my muscles.</div>
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2 days to go friends! This can be done!</div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-44399055988640182512015-07-17T16:15:00.000-07:002015-07-17T16:15:05.459-07:00I declare today, a holiday. HAPPY SEXY ARM DAY!SOOOOOO for my exercise/weight loss group today, we were asked to post a flex picture. I was not looking forward to this suggestion. I am not happy with the flabby, thick nature of my arms, or the lackluster showing of muscles. But I did it just the same because hey, I am a SPORT.<br />
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And then I suddenly felt amazing and needed to tell the whole internet about it.<br />
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Why?<br />
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Because this was my right arm, 11 days ago....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidASYqd9lUUsYSU254C12tawf3QLgBoQ-gnlujPhiZIVfNi3DGmonSsyrp5-S1nVQxfe9fv_Uvzof3MdAjiUaHhXRcrBKJW5Qa2Sai5xkNu2ToQVBi2DQolLqGdvbC2WfyyZJpDAgx3Bs/s1600/IMG_3165+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidASYqd9lUUsYSU254C12tawf3QLgBoQ-gnlujPhiZIVfNi3DGmonSsyrp5-S1nVQxfe9fv_Uvzof3MdAjiUaHhXRcrBKJW5Qa2Sai5xkNu2ToQVBi2DQolLqGdvbC2WfyyZJpDAgx3Bs/s400/IMG_3165+copy.jpg" width="345" /></a></div>
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And this was my right arm today.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZAYZ-jqLQhQ9Sb2zzDwfUZS2B6i3RoNyTmMu_ckFneaUbKJufrbvukdA71Q1LLMLzT3BgYHQ61zVTYYrQlQefHx4RdeOOTNm31e4jvKXmc34LpflAUISSHupyCLYfeEQy7BShKIZ_xE/s1600/IMG_1017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZAYZ-jqLQhQ9Sb2zzDwfUZS2B6i3RoNyTmMu_ckFneaUbKJufrbvukdA71Q1LLMLzT3BgYHQ61zVTYYrQlQefHx4RdeOOTNm31e4jvKXmc34LpflAUISSHupyCLYfeEQy7BShKIZ_xE/s400/IMG_1017.jpg" width="350" /></a></div>
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ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??? I mean, I thought my arms were feeling a little less wobbly than normal, but dang it all that is AMAZING. 11 days of diet, 11 days of exercise, and my arm is practically unrecognizable. There's this bulge on my forearm, just above the elbow. I was wondering what this flabby lump was all about, so I flexed my arm again and poked at it. Guys, it's just another muscle. <i>I didn't even know I had that muscle. </i>Added bonus, I'm running out of flabby lumps!!</div>
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So today, I have 3 thoughts for you:</div>
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<b>1- </b>Guys, <b><i>take "before" pictures.</i></b> I know nobody likes to do it, no one wants to take pictures when you feel super grosky, but I promise you, a little bit of freaking work and you'll love yourself for doing it. I mean as of today, I've still only lost a bit over 2 pounds. That's not very encouraging. You know what IS encouraging? My ridiculous, butt-kicking MUSCLES.</div>
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<b>2- </b>I am officially over half way done with the 21 Day Fix, but <b><i>I am not even close to done with the 21 Day Fix</i></b>. The diet is switching me to good habits with eating regularly, healthy foods spread throughout the day. It doesn't feel like a diet, it feels like, what we should've all been doing all along. I'm sure I'll add in occasional cheats after this first round is done, but it's a lifestyle that I'm not looking to walk away from.</div>
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And then lastly we're on to...</div>
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<b>3-</b> and this is the worst, but <b><i>I'm actually enjoying the exercise</i></b>. I know, I hate me right now a little bit too, and it took a good week of hating everything, but the soreness has diminished, I'm getting better at the moves, and I guess I'm getting that endorphin rush or something because it just makes me feel good. Which makes me want to do it more. Which is why I'm also going for a run or a walk with the family almost every night.</div>
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So that's my day 11 update. Happy to be having a good mood moment to ride me into the weekend, because there's something about a weekend that just makes dieting feel a liiiittle extra depressing. Happy Friday, all, live long, prosper, and what not. </div>
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I don't know why Spock never added the what not. </div>
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And oh yeah. Welcome to the gun show, ladies and gents. </div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-85102553617510345862015-07-15T11:49:00.002-07:002015-07-15T11:49:17.903-07:00Week 1 results and a NEW THING!So, today is day 9 of 21! I haven't done the work out yet, and it's not even noon, so I can't say 'YAY 9 DAYS DONE!!' like I would like to, but that is OKAY. 8 days done. Woo.<br />
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Yesterday, I did not tell you what for, but today I shall. Yesterday was my official 1 week weigh in and measurements stuff. So. So so. One week in, I weighed 153.6, meaning I have lost:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yM6N4ksfTZN3pdNxEqHaCjKNDWPQaxx0yG6AlEYC-oKAzJ_KmEYU5gfsrMJh8OEO6bOFmyxciWJ9ReJmun5PbgUwAnKs04xGPrt6IZ7ixFJq9JbF_s75kli9kK5BCGX6yw88jwyoYP8/s1600/1+week+in+21DFX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yM6N4ksfTZN3pdNxEqHaCjKNDWPQaxx0yG6AlEYC-oKAzJ_KmEYU5gfsrMJh8OEO6bOFmyxciWJ9ReJmun5PbgUwAnKs04xGPrt6IZ7ixFJq9JbF_s75kli9kK5BCGX6yw88jwyoYP8/s400/1+week+in+21DFX.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made a graphic. To make it more exciting. <br />Chevrons make things more exciting, I've heard.</td></tr>
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I feel like the inches are more impressive than the poundage at this point. I'm assuming this is due to regaining muscle mass that had atrophied due to supreme laziness. But that is the point of measurements. Less than 2 pounds is less than encouraging. The other stuff feels better.</div>
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IN OTHER NEWS....</div>
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Our family got a new addition this past weekend. And it is due to <i>a story.</i> So here you have it: <i><span style="font-family: inherit;">A story.</span></i></div>
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Once upon a time circa 2008, my brother and I acquired for our mother, a dog. A snuffly, wiggly little pug named Oliver. Whom she loved, except for 2 things. 1) He was a little excitable around the children, who were more than a little anxious about his snarly, growly, angry sounding breathing, and 2) He had a tendency to get out of the back yard.</div>
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So although Oliver the Pug was loved and cared for, about a year ago, he got out, and was not found. Not picked up by the SPCA, never ever discovered. It was decided that he was either taken by another family, or he had met his end. Sadness. </div>
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After some months, our mother acquired a new puppy, a mutt dog who my daughter named Paws. That puppy, now 6 months old, has become a beloved animal to my children.</div>
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Friday evening, my mom got a phone call. From a police officer. </div>
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We have your dog, he says. </div>
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Oliver, the little world traveler, had not met his end after all. We can assume he may have been taken by another family, when he once again used his Houdini inspired powers of escape, and found himself grabbed and scanned by the Po-po.</div>
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So mother calls us. </div>
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Would you like a dog?</div>
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Seems 2 dogs felt a little intense and unexpected, and since our kids had made such a close bond with the new pup, we decided to bring her home. And that's how we got this new little addition to our home.</div>
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I got these pictures after the kids had played the dog within an inch of her life, and she finally collapsed, attempting to nap.</div>
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However....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBF2xgysZ6W9vr1noQYQU-aIxLSGkq3i1tKullFEixR6Vpr_Y90gYbe84uaC5BHXBj6ASMg95gz9DXDfx6wzWHeEIHfquhTlHYfWl-02ftt4vblFPzbvpVT0o4hdfh4t6dHfFKKKH06U/s1600/11223963_10155905627090624_8137562525516094148_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBF2xgysZ6W9vr1noQYQU-aIxLSGkq3i1tKullFEixR6Vpr_Y90gYbe84uaC5BHXBj6ASMg95gz9DXDfx6wzWHeEIHfquhTlHYfWl-02ftt4vblFPzbvpVT0o4hdfh4t6dHfFKKKH06U/s400/11223963_10155905627090624_8137562525516094148_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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brothers are annoying.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ0DJNdDiumtOweGasPW-yusbwCGB4z1SyrRgn8Zfen4jeerKWgpDbzlJkw1mXl3LwX02zReoB7Elw3bdnM8l-Sh9XfCzXaLhhNyichS7Z9A38W2rF0kpGdOTNheQuAGyJumm008l7Ur8/s1600/11755656_10155905622895624_7852211191891505103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ0DJNdDiumtOweGasPW-yusbwCGB4z1SyrRgn8Zfen4jeerKWgpDbzlJkw1mXl3LwX02zReoB7Elw3bdnM8l-Sh9XfCzXaLhhNyichS7Z9A38W2rF0kpGdOTNheQuAGyJumm008l7Ur8/s400/11755656_10155905622895624_7852211191891505103_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Girly Pants LOVES her new dog. Because, she says, Paws is HER pet. Which is fine with me, because it is also HER responsibility to pick up poop. Everyone's happy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPqLv6SobIYdUGqDpnDiT0-fAB57ehUVzYxEX-pC45pcfYpFS4T-ks8J_Wmxd_OMvI3L7PuSKi335ArWMbXqHYz5VYYkSAOYqUgGo46oGDYWZHPKO50C5Q66vCRMa-_aIOZD8Hnri-Scw/s1600/11703134_10155905873185624_1470972647796326891_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPqLv6SobIYdUGqDpnDiT0-fAB57ehUVzYxEX-pC45pcfYpFS4T-ks8J_Wmxd_OMvI3L7PuSKi335ArWMbXqHYz5VYYkSAOYqUgGo46oGDYWZHPKO50C5Q66vCRMa-_aIOZD8Hnri-Scw/s400/11703134_10155905873185624_1470972647796326891_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luvies <3</td></tr>
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Added and unexpected bonus to having a dog: she eats the food crumbs the kids spill almost before they hit the floor. Paws has SIGNIFICANTLY reduced the amount of times I need to sweep the kitchen floor every day. Which makes her, of course, my new favorite person.<br />
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So g'day, Folks! And for those of you in this challenge with me, or who have mentioned you're on the weight loss journey too, keep it up! You're awesome! And IT'S WORTH IT!!<br />
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<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-86186177891602977242015-07-13T22:23:00.000-07:002015-07-13T22:23:12.557-07:00Day 7... Time to talk about food!<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Day 6:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">5:30am—Got up to do the Dirty 30 workout before
church, felt like a superhero.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">7:00am-- Told my husband that I felt AMAZING and
was doing better and feeling better, even on less than average sleep. Planned
to be up at 5:30am every day for exercise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">7:10am-- Contemplated what color my cape should be. Decided on Aquamarine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">10:30am—Felt like a lead footed coma patient who
was being asked to walk around like a regular human.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">12:00pm—Had to watch and smell other people eat
pizza while I had a salad with a half serving of chicken, 1 1/2 tablespoons of
dressing, skip the cheese. Decided there should be some sort of bonus award
for this kind of restraint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">12:30pm—Hoped the award would be pizza…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">2:30pm—Passed out on couch. Never to move again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, that was
most of yesterday. In the end I also did my weekly grocery shopping trip<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I keep wanting to talk about food. I mean, always,
yes, I want to talk about food. You don't get chunky if you don't have some
pretty serious feelings about food. But this is different. I want to talk
about <i>healthy</i> food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">UGH. Emirite?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve been having mixed feelings about my food choices during this
program. At the beginning, all my feelings were positive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m always full!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These foods are
actually good! YAY FOR HUMMUS! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So for an example of some of my eatings:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzk5ZkXHt7tgAVlkvTt7KbSI5fn5FopS5GG7Jh5Xcf8eMQOk04KR5y5Zbbo9B-Db3xufpc10DFVgHFd-Hp3mX63fzxqEvYdGnUKIErg3EFM8qbwsjhhO3tLxYccshcRjRXFjyZjeo66hQ/s1600/IMG_0850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzk5ZkXHt7tgAVlkvTt7KbSI5fn5FopS5GG7Jh5Xcf8eMQOk04KR5y5Zbbo9B-Db3xufpc10DFVgHFd-Hp3mX63fzxqEvYdGnUKIErg3EFM8qbwsjhhO3tLxYccshcRjRXFjyZjeo66hQ/s400/IMG_0850.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is my favorite breakfast. 1 serving of nonfat Greek Yogurt, 1
serving of fresh berries. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0I7oCPr8XEW1hxKiCgSHd3DzsJu9N-PX4KorsT0AcX3g2tplRz_53DPXI49PF69fNxQ-qrZm-t666J1KKonAdSFW2PlIzfQJgqMwm_Az9diFWihPjQZ4DLF36ZYNsHjeIytF2FQ803I4/s1600/IMG_0853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0I7oCPr8XEW1hxKiCgSHd3DzsJu9N-PX4KorsT0AcX3g2tplRz_53DPXI49PF69fNxQ-qrZm-t666J1KKonAdSFW2PlIzfQJgqMwm_Az9diFWihPjQZ4DLF36ZYNsHjeIytF2FQ803I4/s400/IMG_0853.jpg" width="378" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is my favorite lunch. A 6-inch whole wheat tortilla with hummus and
an assortment of fresh lettuce and vegetables. It looks weird because once upon
a time it was an 8-inch tortilla, but that was two inches too big, so it got
downsized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24H-om620NwJaiRzSIKXrg5QeSG_U84XbnFuKlTYGdcoxcqhSZp_Cvc-GCmt2REGSgvnVDmpXFTHFWG4-v8f2jb0b6jS6QKGEUULciMxIRRf43aX9eAfSJhU5kRs9Kd8CR8bGwoFxBLs/s1600/IMG_0856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24H-om620NwJaiRzSIKXrg5QeSG_U84XbnFuKlTYGdcoxcqhSZp_Cvc-GCmt2REGSgvnVDmpXFTHFWG4-v8f2jb0b6jS6QKGEUULciMxIRRf43aX9eAfSJhU5kRs9Kd8CR8bGwoFxBLs/s400/IMG_0856.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is my to go pack version of the same lunch. This is how I avoid fast food
on work days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGfCudvXeXPlGyjxIXFznVTcioVAcKrx4NjqbKarc8Xcbb1UU7Cy2QK9JVvbjM8IuR_qYi501YtZa_zYmxPob4yo40FJsJ1Fa5fRjBPLz1KXh5m49asU1txH3PzIqHAtASYDLqd4Rz10/s1600/IMG_0857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGfCudvXeXPlGyjxIXFznVTcioVAcKrx4NjqbKarc8Xcbb1UU7Cy2QK9JVvbjM8IuR_qYi501YtZa_zYmxPob4yo40FJsJ1Fa5fRjBPLz1KXh5m49asU1txH3PzIqHAtASYDLqd4Rz10/s400/IMG_0857.jpg" width="371" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is one additional breakfast, that was also pretty awesome. Although
I prefer cold breakfast to hot I think, 2 eggs, sautéed peppers and onions,
fresh cilantro and tomatoes, was also a good way to start the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So the point is, real food. Decent food. Small changes have been made,
homemade vinegrette instead of bottled soy or teriyaki sauce, mashed
cauliflower instead of mashed potatoes, brown rice instead of white, and of
course, watch those portions!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>But,</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> this past weekend… I’m gonna admit it. I was grumpy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Soooo grumpy. I mean, I’m not naturally prone to coolness and
popularity, but this past weekend, even I didn’t want to be my friend. I tried
to put one of those “Kick Me” signs on my back, but I’m still pretty sore from
all the exercising so it wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped. But still. Kick Me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have discovered, I think, that once again, I was my own Grandpa. No.
Enemy. I always mix those up. I was my own Grand-Enemy, in that, even though
I was doing the right exercise and eating the right foods, I may not have been
eating the right foods in the right way. <i>Ooooooooooh</i>. By this I mean, I was
really lazy about getting food the last few days, and didn’t eat much of
anything before noon. So food gets pushed into the evening, I’m skipping
proteins, and feeling exhausted and oh so very terribly grumpy all day long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or maybe I’m just getting my period. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Probably one of those.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh, one last thing. This year’s Root Vegetable Weight Lifter of the Year
competition goes to…..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Arnold Schwarzen-tubber!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sylvester Spud-llone!</div>
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...</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jean Claude Van Yam!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
Yep. That's it. That’s the one.</span><br />
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Rumor has it he juices.</div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-15432495504578026052015-07-09T22:30:00.000-07:002015-07-09T22:30:02.580-07:00Time Out for GENIUSToday is Day 3 of 21. The workout went far better than expected. Today was my first day with thoughts of "I wish I could eat ______". I think I got a little bummed out when<br />
<br />
1- My weight which had dropped 2 full pounds by the end of Day 2, jumped back up 1.5 pounds,<br />
and<br />
2- Friend of mine, <i>(YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE)</i>, told me that she's at the end of this same challenge, enjoying it, but hasn't lost an ounce.<br />
<br />
And between those two things, I became suddenly a little down, a little fatalistic. HOWEVER. That's not helping. I shall <i>not</i> allow the evil brain to come back and convince me to stop trying and to dive almost literally back into the cookie jar. No, Evil Brain. NO.<br />
<br />
But time out. Because Guys? I totally invented a Pinterest.<br />
<br />
So one problem that I'd been having since I've been doing breakfast shakes, is that I try to drink them in my awesome mason jug thingy, as seen here:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9T2N9X5TJbupujkN2pb_oHaSV3EmvvcUzRwWAeUmqAV7cShyphenhyphenAV5ZgpWwNdr8-o-Abuom9_GvGWmxEUo6Otf5TwBPuMnNbWrqltye4vmEAE-fQjLSufJgXmIU2KbqyO2GJLzbhm-kLf0/s1600/IMG_0852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9T2N9X5TJbupujkN2pb_oHaSV3EmvvcUzRwWAeUmqAV7cShyphenhyphenAV5ZgpWwNdr8-o-Abuom9_GvGWmxEUo6Otf5TwBPuMnNbWrqltye4vmEAE-fQjLSufJgXmIU2KbqyO2GJLzbhm-kLf0/s320/IMG_0852.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
<br />
and then I inevitably gunk up the straw with kale flecks or powdery shake stuffs, and then I get skeeved out and never want to use it again. <br />
<br />
The question "how can I make my reusable drink mug actually reusable?" has plagued me for years. YEARS I tell you. Which is sad, really, when the answer was lying around my house the whole time.<br />
<br />
I can't take it anymore. I have to tell you. It's yarn. YARN! My favorite thing has a new use!<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyY5aViwmDraB751YEG0ZG2YPnq41ZEChtdsic1CayjctlHiySWasJoFonnX_2MVpwQ03p_iLvAfxUG0gXFtm6TvUm3oEbhJut1FiJDkw30p5woQFNnWL4rAsf81odDtBthJw9nigz5fY/s1600/IMG_0681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyY5aViwmDraB751YEG0ZG2YPnq41ZEChtdsic1CayjctlHiySWasJoFonnX_2MVpwQ03p_iLvAfxUG0gXFtm6TvUm3oEbhJut1FiJDkw30p5woQFNnWL4rAsf81odDtBthJw9nigz5fY/s400/IMG_0681.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at me! I'm a genius!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I know that you get it already, but other people who figure stuff out get to list steps. I wanna list steps. So ehem.</div>
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<br /></div>
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All you have to do is:</div>
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1) Drop a thin strand down side till it emerges from the other end (if it doesn't want to go, you can kind of blow on it. That worked for me.)</div>
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2) Add water and some dish soap</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3) Hold the ends of the yarn in one hand, the straw in the other, and just pull it top to bottom while slowly rotating the straw. The course fibers are awesome little scrubbers, and within no time, your nasty skanky gross out straw is so fresh and so clean clean!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCRlFssyrcGvZRvFciw6vVQcZUrdrRffMVYOYvjGecswMtFn7tghmON1P7SuHqLkSjzht5-cm0b0i36RCDpelmFZ5_ak4uWp1r2AVOHVx5ilCkGlLc5oAfVUGfilG1-KjI8h4zQyCJ3I/s1600/IMG_0682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCRlFssyrcGvZRvFciw6vVQcZUrdrRffMVYOYvjGecswMtFn7tghmON1P7SuHqLkSjzht5-cm0b0i36RCDpelmFZ5_ak4uWp1r2AVOHVx5ilCkGlLc5oAfVUGfilG1-KjI8h4zQyCJ3I/s400/IMG_0682.JPG" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFgdzr3YXRGdHnXO9cCNnKqeV3KNeWToRJqMrdKMK8A_QrliqzYpXSf7Z8V1NFhrp3mZqcDTcsb5eItWL5CtFY3kifw6hV0Hq8J2hm5XbsoB0hMQWB2cor9oZ6X825HAkeV3LndqSrw4/s1600/IMG_0683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFgdzr3YXRGdHnXO9cCNnKqeV3KNeWToRJqMrdKMK8A_QrliqzYpXSf7Z8V1NFhrp3mZqcDTcsb5eItWL5CtFY3kifw6hV0Hq8J2hm5XbsoB0hMQWB2cor9oZ6X825HAkeV3LndqSrw4/s400/IMG_0683.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I like Bubbles.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
If anything, I'm a little annoyed that it took me this long to properly clean out all my water bottle straws. I mean, there is no substance more plentiful in my home (besides, maybe, cracker crumbs) than yarn. I could knit my whole house a sweater if I wanted to. I'm saying I've got a problem. So you see, the solution that evaded me for so long was right under my nose... or rather, in the ottoman under my feet... and in a tub under my bed, and a little hiding in the hatbox in my bedroom closet.<br />
<br />
Well, that's really all I've got for you tonight, Folks. But if this little piece of genius isn't enough for you, then, you've got some real problems, my friend. The first of which being ridiculously high expectations for this blog.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm off to go use my powers for Good, and find what other dilemmas that Yarn and I can solve tonight!*<br />
<br />
*This is the part where I was going to create for myself a superhero called Yarn Man or Yarn Girl or something like that and then I thought, wait a minute, duh, the internet exists. And also, apparently, so does Yarn Man, copyright someone else.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPWqdxZxXIaHO1adwn94ESjYGeguEUSo9snR-m0JaG2HYxAe1Y2WSzZldXZYOKiY_HNvfcw4UrGPw7EzwbsY-Jp1-bXEQ5JnBzL9KhL7NVJcTZX-4ZiJ6hvqnK2UFV4euidVO_xjRdaQ/s1600/1148769-yarnman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPWqdxZxXIaHO1adwn94ESjYGeguEUSo9snR-m0JaG2HYxAe1Y2WSzZldXZYOKiY_HNvfcw4UrGPw7EzwbsY-Jp1-bXEQ5JnBzL9KhL7NVJcTZX-4ZiJ6hvqnK2UFV4euidVO_xjRdaQ/s400/1148769-yarnman.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't string him along, he's YARN MAAAAN!!!!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I can only assume this is Yarn Man's sidekick: The Crochet Kiiiiid!!!!!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8LPPuVwyWtgIKYCsSb4-jINy8umxGUw5bDoqrwcOVxDZCRx85Ia_xd0d3IVLA8dvreGkH8QxjgEYZvdTuK2BJ817Dgbq6lSC3_fnwkkaJ5Oc0jqierQ76MSKzKK5MBpo9iAeB6Qzg78/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8LPPuVwyWtgIKYCsSb4-jINy8umxGUw5bDoqrwcOVxDZCRx85Ia_xd0d3IVLA8dvreGkH8QxjgEYZvdTuK2BJ817Dgbq6lSC3_fnwkkaJ5Oc0jqierQ76MSKzKK5MBpo9iAeB6Qzg78/s400/images.jpeg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My superpowers are Cannabis!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Goodnight Kids!<br />
<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-8977499894214690002015-07-08T21:01:00.001-07:002015-07-08T21:05:04.209-07:00Holy Hamstrings, Batman!<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh. My Body. My poor, sad, Body. I’m so sorry, Body, you
didn’t do anything to deserve this. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It would seem, Friends, that I am wickedly and unforgivably
out of shape. You know how I keep saying I go running every now and again?
Well, I’m not lying, but I’m apparently it's the saddest most pathetic excuse for running you've ever seen. Like a slightly mobile nap, or something. How
long has it been since exercising made me feel like I might throw up? Well, at
this point not that long, because it was today, and then before that, it was
yesterday. But before THAT… I don’t know. Forever. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew this was going to be bad when, immediately after the
work out, and then all day long, my legs felt shaky and sore. I tried to stay up,
running in place while cooking or unloading the dishwasher, and we went for a 2
mile walk in the evening but alas, I woke up today and every inch of my body
below the neck and above the ankles hurts. Oooooh how it hurts. But just the
same, Guys, I DID IT. I got up at 6:30 and I did day 2 of 21 (or day 2 of the
rest of my life if their insidious plan works as intended), and it was super
painful, but painful in a different way, and I’ll be in more pain tomorrow. And
there will be evening, and there will be morning, the third day.* <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*That was a little bit of Bible I just threw at you. But it
was about God creating the universe, and I made it about me trying to be not so
fat. So yeah. Pretty much the same thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today was Upper Body Make Your Arms And Torso Cry for Mercy
Day. Or something like that. All of the exercises with the weights for me were
the easiest, which is probably an indicator that I should switch out my 5
pounders for some 8 or 10 pound weights, but well, leave me alone. Mama needs
baby steps. Because 60 seconds of pushups after a million other exercises and
showing up sore in the first place and it’s still only 6:45 in the morning and
I’d really like another hour of sleep thank you much… terrible. Juuuust
terrible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, and also, tonight after work I made the <i>hugely</i> ill-informed
decision to go for a short run to “loosen<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>up my soreness”. Well, the run instead turned into an awkward sort of
waddley stomp-walk, think, if Frankenstein tried to go for an evening jog. And
also, now I can’t move at all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Here’s hoping I get out of bed in the morning!<o:p></o:p></div>
~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-31451043848394216572015-07-06T22:06:00.000-07:002015-07-06T22:07:48.851-07:0021 Days Until...Awesome, I hope. Like, REALLY FREAKIN AWESOME.<br />
<br />
SO. Officially dieting again (starting tomorrow, per usual), but this time, guys, I MEAN it. Although I did pretty stinking great this last week, going down from 159.4 last Monday to 155.4 today, so shut your mouth, I'm totally awesome already. That's enough out of you.<br />
<br />
So let's bright side/dark side where I am today:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bright Side: </span><br />
<br />
1) Very glad to see that the sudden increase in weight (::COUGH:: on and off over the last few weeks ::COUGH::) dipped back down after a solid week of running and avoiding after dinner snacking. That was a pleasant discovery.<br />
<br />
2) I did my pre-diet grocery shopping trip tonight. It was at least 75% fresh produce. I felt like a dieting super star.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqu13AoKUboKVc3XK85Eerk7tD-oVZEoDvWdp7OoNXtYAWlWdZeiPKoQLsQAuJEGHkfw_1Oo4umo8V_TGFS-QbtN6f7ALCcDZPHBgqG2FAJ2Bdd2_LvvQiBp5djv4tRO0TOgHzxPvqr_Y/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqu13AoKUboKVc3XK85Eerk7tD-oVZEoDvWdp7OoNXtYAWlWdZeiPKoQLsQAuJEGHkfw_1Oo4umo8V_TGFS-QbtN6f7ALCcDZPHBgqG2FAJ2Bdd2_LvvQiBp5djv4tRO0TOgHzxPvqr_Y/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me.<br />
Also, if you don't know this image, you're too young to read this blog. Go away and like, hit puberty.</td></tr>
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3) Although I haven't started the diet yet, it seems like it may have been created by an evil genius. But more on that later.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Dark Side:</span><br />
<br />
1) I took my "starting" measurements today. And let me tell you. Not good, my friends. Really not good. Worst I've seen in over a year, I believe, and that was just because I was losing baby weight.<br />
<br />
2) I took my "before" pictures today. And let me tell you. Not good, my friends. Really not ...I feel like I've been here before.<br />
<br />
3) I decided to post those pictures here on my blog. So here you go children. This is what Fat Ash (sorry about that. I promised and everything) has become. Again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgukqR5b9kFbKg6x5ijDD5O7kcWxqOD15rt4jqf0uqZBzMdrvRuaod-JXtbPep2KccBJXO6uuWBbPNlpLrW44lconSH4srCdmqjBoLnZXs33gobIHcblLuJxG1Dis-HJsX4WSgI0x7JVLU/s1600/IMG_3166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgukqR5b9kFbKg6x5ijDD5O7kcWxqOD15rt4jqf0uqZBzMdrvRuaod-JXtbPep2KccBJXO6uuWBbPNlpLrW44lconSH4srCdmqjBoLnZXs33gobIHcblLuJxG1Dis-HJsX4WSgI0x7JVLU/s400/IMG_3166.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqStdzMYAligPsSl6Q4Ypy8oBQKdhMWju0adhz6G6tmLlSBd8Ep6JflkUTTeWLnLG_tQNq6FYITVGpbCyJsAiOkC9Uz6xdmd4S1NCCrYnwq0qnk17VUCEbElWTT1hbbR7kcO6D8dV5Lk/s1600/IMG_3165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqStdzMYAligPsSl6Q4Ypy8oBQKdhMWju0adhz6G6tmLlSBd8Ep6JflkUTTeWLnLG_tQNq6FYITVGpbCyJsAiOkC9Uz6xdmd4S1NCCrYnwq0qnk17VUCEbElWTT1hbbR7kcO6D8dV5Lk/s400/IMG_3165.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
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So there I am. There is me. Hello Bellybutton! I see you! If I look happy at all it's because I have decided to DO something about it, and doing something is always happier than not doing something.</div>
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Now it's time to talk about the Something. I'm not going to advertise it a bunch, mostly because I can't figure out how to make someone pay me to advertise it, but I'm doing the 21 Day Fix through Beachbody. The gist is, 21 days of exercise (30 minutes a pop, I think even I can survive it) mixed with Shakeology, and a pretty basic portion-control based diet. Of course, there are a good amount of things that are on the "no no" list, but they try to keep it broad, try to keep your diet balanced (which I LOVE, no gorging yourself on roast beef, denying all fruits, and calling it a diet), and try to make it simple. You're using small colored tupperware containers to measure out the "size" of your servings, instead of pulling out a food scale or guessing calories. </div>
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And this is why I think it might be genius: They say it takes 21 days to build a habit. So for 21 days, you exercise. And for 21 days, you're not forced to eat something prepared by someone else, you're trained to get in the habit of feeding yourself appropriately. THIS is what an appropriate amount of rice is for me. THIS is how many vegetables I should be eating every day. So although it's sold as a kind of quick fix solution, like, "see what you can change in 21 short days", the true goal is much more insidious. They're trying to get inside your head. <i>They're trying to change you're freaking life. </i></div>
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I don't know, man. This could be dangerous. I'll keep you posted. </div>
<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-77116061298681671812015-07-02T10:02:00.000-07:002015-07-02T10:02:29.475-07:00Stress- with a side of onion ringsToday, I am not running. I am getting ready for work, I am taking care of the kids, and I am drinking a cup of coffee for the first time in a few days, and it's okay, I gotta admit. But also? I kinda wish I'd gotten up early enough to run today. One week into New Life, and it already feels wrong to take a rest day. THAT IS AMAZING.<br />
<br />
So if it's so easy to <i>enjoy</i> running and other such good behaviors, how come I've breached back into the "overweight" category, huh? HUH?? That, Lovelies, is a fair question.<br />
<br />
Lately, I've had The Stress. From various places in life and work, since around April, The Stress has been cranked up to 11. I felt like I was in college again (not as good as it sounds), with my poor sleeping, racing heart, and constant sense of foreboding. It blows, honestly. So I decided, on purpose, to let this one go. I decided that I don't have "healthy lifestyle" in me right now. I'm too busy, I'm too preoccupied, I've let anxiety gain a foothold in me, and I don't need to add to my problems by getting all obsessed with the size of my flabby belly. ... right?<br />
<br />
No. Obviously no. Because ignoring health, using food to suppress stress (old habits die hard), and pretending I can just hold on to the weight I was at (notice the past tense), well, these things are lies and they are NOT FREAKING HELPING. I spent 3 months feeling stressed and eating junk and not getting, in any way, better. At all. Just not.<br />
<br />
But guess what? HOPE AND CHANGE, that's what.<br />
<br />
Now, these feet are going places.<br />
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Now, this face is drenched in sweat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AD2VmNebsUm0hfrigK8Db0raRTpolr_6-0GliFoCqi52irOYuw1dvSnYcDxBCSpvyYKWOswAN5Pp9wv8NeY7IxLEh03iK_Jhs1DUskcWt3RPeZlN56aR3QRJmSaIgssstFWKTAO_z70/s1600/IMG_0679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AD2VmNebsUm0hfrigK8Db0raRTpolr_6-0GliFoCqi52irOYuw1dvSnYcDxBCSpvyYKWOswAN5Pp9wv8NeY7IxLEh03iK_Jhs1DUskcWt3RPeZlN56aR3QRJmSaIgssstFWKTAO_z70/s400/IMG_0679.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_657065306"></span><span id="goog_657065307"></span>And now, this human is starting to heal. Because here's the truth of the matter: Waiting till life gets less stressful is a <i>darn dirty LIE</i>. That's not how life works. Life doesn't just "get easier", you have to get better at life. Ooh, I like that one, let's say it again:</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Life doesn't get easier, you have to get better at life!</span></i></div>
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That's right kids, I just Tony Robbins-ed all over your faces. Deal with it. </div>
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Happy Thursday, Friends. Tomorrow, we shall run again. And then Saturday, we shall run again again. Because 'Murica. Because, suck it, England. This is what Freedom tastes like.</div>
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Oh wait, real quick. I just saw something on a show called My 600-Pound Life. A guy, shocked, innocent, and full of drama, tells the camera "Almost everything I eat is bad for me. .... I had no idea." </div>
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Really? Because you weigh over 790 pounds... and I feel like maybe there were signs. :-P</div>
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No judgement, obviously, I have zero legs to stand on here, but come now, Friend, let's try a bit of honesty.</div>
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~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-86943327976958917722015-06-29T22:36:00.000-07:002015-06-29T22:36:05.890-07:00The return of Fat AshleySo here's a funny thing.<br />
<br />
It's the end of June and I have reached a new milestone: my heaviest official weight (excepting for pregnancy and the first couple months AFTER pregnancy) in 4 and a half years.<br />
<br />
Wooooooo!!!!!!...plbpt.<br />
<br />
It seems I've surrounded myself with beautiful, kindhearted, liar-faced-liars who swear on the lives of their children that "oh you look amazing, I would NEVER have guessed that you've been putting on weight!" while in their heads I'm quite certain they're thinking something more along the lines of<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZHf2iM_5CX9JnxhyEOYj52960bn1TJR5XH4md2bGoGDXMARRM8MiGpvV_aE6jQSiLf14_ysh-UR3SvFXkFSwvch753Z0oW2dZYGUUn84Hl-m9rIT-2iCV9qqWEZNC621qYqyzWJCdSqc/s1600/BGNlLPGCQAEUIgW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZHf2iM_5CX9JnxhyEOYj52960bn1TJR5XH4md2bGoGDXMARRM8MiGpvV_aE6jQSiLf14_ysh-UR3SvFXkFSwvch753Z0oW2dZYGUUn84Hl-m9rIT-2iCV9qqWEZNC621qYqyzWJCdSqc/s1600/BGNlLPGCQAEUIgW.jpg" /></a></div>
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Liar-faced-liars try real hard to be nice, and that's sweet and all, but a few things in my life have chosen a more direct, objective approach. Things like:<br />
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1) My Wedding Ring. The symbol of my eternal love and commitment has been rethinking its commitment to my left hand. Or, I suppose, it's deciding whether it wants to avoid joining the hand completely, or fuse itself to myself forever and ever Amen.<br />
<br />
2) My Pants. This morning, I was afraid of all of my pants. To be fair, I'm pretty sure they were equally afraid of me. My pants were purchased for a skinnier person, and they glared judgingly at me from my closet. "NO FAT ASHLEYS ALLOWED", they proclaimed. But you know what? I don't like being told what to do, so I shoved my oversized backside into those jeans anyway. I squiggled and squirmed and gasped and twisted and tried hard not to think about <a href="http://fox13now.com/2015/06/23/skinny-jeans-send-woman-to-hospital-could-tight-pants-be-bad-for-your-health/" target="_blank">This Recent Incident</a> wherein a woman was hospitalized for wearing overly tight pants. Take that, judgy pants. You are ON me now. HA.<br />
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3) Wait what was this list about again? Oh yeah. Things telling me that I am fat.<br />
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4) Lastly I think, The Scale. Now, I know that The Scale is a deep fried jerk covered in jerk sauce, and that he's on a constant mission to destroy my mood, but... sometimes he makes some points. Today's point, for example was 159.4. And it made me sad. THANKS A LOT SCALE. YOU WIN AGAIN.<br />
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But hey, forget all that. It doesn't matter, because guess what? Guess what? It's that, YOU'RE WELCOME, THE INTERNET.<br />
<br />
You see, Skinny Ashley thought that blogging was a time-luxury she could no longer afford. Skinny Ashley spurned your love and affection because her jeans fit her just fine, and everyone knows that people who can fit into their own jeans are SELFISH BRAIN DEAD JERKS. But Fat Ashley, well, Fat Ashley has all of the muffin tops. And now, oh, Fat Ashley needs you so hard, Internet. Fat Ashley can't live another day without you. Fat Ashley is so sorry she went away and is begging, pleading, for your mercy and forgiveness.<br />
<br />
Also, Fat Ashley thinks you're looking very nice these days, by the way. And... she wonders if you did something different with your hair?<br />
<br />
Asking for a friend: how many times can a person call herself Fat before she hurts her own feelings? Let's call it an even 37 and move right along.<br />
<br />
So there we are. There I am. Fat Ashley is back with her too high BMI score and her too tight pants and her too desperate need for approval. Hope you still like me, Internet. Please, please still like me.<br />
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The End.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Real quick, I expect a few people out there to respect the fact that I've only ever used the name Fat Ashley in those post, and never once, NEVER ONCE called myself a Fat Ash. Because that would not be classy, and classy is the name of the game here, folks. Classy.<br />
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<br />~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1045758175208141739.post-23783240799484585532015-01-05T16:55:00.002-08:002015-01-05T16:55:49.300-08:00Failed it! Next?<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey guys, hey guys, remember that time where it was
almost the end of December and I was like, "Hey, I'm totally going to
start my diet a little BEFORE the new year and lose some weight so my 'starting
weight' for the year is lower!" Do you remember that? Do ya do ya??<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ha. Haha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH no.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guess I ended up making different life choices,
because New Year's Day started with another 155 weigh in, and the day after New
Year's Day was even a teensy bit higher. But IT IS ALL OKAY because it's
time for me to lose like 30 pounds again and heck, you gotta start somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even though it's a new year, I've decided to do an
old thing. Last February I spent a month being super committed to the
Pinterest-discovered Guns Buns and Abs work out challenge. In that month I lost
6 pounds and multiple inches from all the places where I would like to lose
multiple inches, so I have decided to do said challenge again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdM6-amAWvJ_tlNKBiS0Arwgv8GcfjAxithd4H2XCBgjxIz3tzEMCFYS1SHlwET_pcsgblVtWMw2yfVFEJomNSvLIU153qgH99ivVtIaZczR9tjZvJmwL7fJGEYRXSb4EHj1sEYTRmIkI/s1600/IMG_5871.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdM6-amAWvJ_tlNKBiS0Arwgv8GcfjAxithd4H2XCBgjxIz3tzEMCFYS1SHlwET_pcsgblVtWMw2yfVFEJomNSvLIU153qgH99ivVtIaZczR9tjZvJmwL7fJGEYRXSb4EHj1sEYTRmIkI/s1600/IMG_5871.PNG" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It hurts, my friends. It hurts so, so mucho.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m on day 2 of the challenge, so 5 pushups, 55
squats, and 30 leg lifts. And I’m still adding in the crunches (starting at 50
a day) because of how flabby my belly looks in the mirror. Dang uncouth, no
manners mirrors. Jerks, all of them, I assure you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Along with this, I’ve had some bonus cardioone Start
The Year Off Right run of about 7.4 miles, at a breakneck speed of 4.6 miles an
hour which makes it technically… a brisk walk? A leisurely stroll? An annoying
nap? Ah, forget you, Haters. Leave Fatty alone, SHE’S TRYING HERE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_COAGv1P_EFUqTyjFFM57YIVyEnx2n160W3ucIz7n6N4Tv0BWcnyOHqW6KZ7wpdN5Q_D1bDk7iu-cuf-lDJsyGQSgTdII_GL6L8gZ9cFDZ1XWfNWvclpxFF-Mwlguyl0Edr3T9rnhSk/s1600/IMG_8829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_COAGv1P_EFUqTyjFFM57YIVyEnx2n160W3ucIz7n6N4Tv0BWcnyOHqW6KZ7wpdN5Q_D1bDk7iu-cuf-lDJsyGQSgTdII_GL6L8gZ9cFDZ1XWfNWvclpxFF-Mwlguyl0Edr3T9rnhSk/s1600/IMG_8829.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the before picture. <br />There is no after picture, because about 1/4 mile from my house, both myself and my phone dropped down dead.</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So that’s where I am now. Stomach muscles screaming in pain, with no
weight loss yet to speak of.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But on the bright side, I'm so hungry I could eat my own shoe.</span></div>
~Ashley~http://www.blogger.com/profile/11433473500317649545noreply@blogger.com0